Mutual Compromise
by summerpride
Summary: Jack's life is thrown even more off-balance than usual by not one but several improbable circumstances, leading him back to his murderess as his crew sets off on a certain quest to find a fabled fountain. Set after AWE, ignoring OST. Eventually J/E
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Here it is, I finally got around to uploading it! Here's the beginning of my first attempt at writing a POTC multi-chapter fic - set around two months after the end of AWE and going on to ignore OST (yep, they're off to the fountain of youth!). Fortunately I already have a good chunk of it written so I have a good idea of where it's going to end up, and that means fairly frequent updates too!

Though one very important thing to mention: while this is a Sparrabeth fanfiction (yay!), it will be a bit of a wait until the Sparrabethness actually happens as my main focus with this story is creating a decent plot and then weaving the romance into it (because this is my first time writing any kind of romance whatsoever). I hope you guys don't mind! It will also be a long one, folks, I'm currently clocking up over 60,000 words and I'm only just reaching the half-way point! :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own POTC or any of its characters, which unfortunately includes Captain Jack Sparrow *sadface*

Please let me know what you think! :D

* * *

The rain pelted the deck relentlessly, with no mercy for the unfortunate crewmen forced to work into the night to ensure the _Black Pearl_ reached her destination in time. Captain Barbossa wouldn't appreciate slackers, and even though he'd stormed off to his quarters just under an hour ago, his crew knew that to even risk angering him by shirking duty was the equivalent of angering a fierce and bloodthirsty hound. Now was not the time to challenge his orders. Ever since their... _altercation_ with another ship earlier in the day, he had worn an expression of barely concealed fury and irritation for the _quest_ they had been assigned by said ship.

They'd left _him_ over two months ago, high and dry (though not absolutely desolate, to the dismay of the captain) on the island of Tortuga. While certain members of the crew were shocked by Barbossa's deceit and mutiny (a loose definition, the crew agreed, since he hadn't actually deposed of the last captain, just failed to mention to him that he was setting sail with no plans of taking him with him), they had had no choice but to continue in their initial plan to seek out the Fountain of Youth. However, once it had been discovered that they were no longer in possession of the map to the fountain, their plans had changed considerably.

Until now, that is.

Now they were on their way back from whence they came, back to the island of Tortuga to find the very man they had left there those two months ago.

If he was still there, that is.

But nobody knew, nobody had heard of his whereabouts since their departure from the island. He could be dead (which would solve all of their problems, Barbossa had argued fervently), or he may have moved on (very unlikely, they all assumed), or he may be elsewhere, in futile pursuit of the _Black Pearl_ in the hope of taking it back for himself.

But they could only hope that he was there, for if he wasn't, well Barbossa didn't even want to contemplate the consequences of that potential fact.

So they all agreed that they needed to find him, or else risk a fate far worse than death. For once in his life, Barbossa had to admit that Jack Sparrow was vital to his own survival.

...

Every day passed in a similar sort of manner. And while it did get repetitive, Jack certainly wasn't complaining. Spending the whole day in a tavern surrounded by beautiful women and a plentiful supply of rum was enough to take his mind off other, less savoury, things.

Two things, in fact - or was it three? The rum was making it difficult to keep count - _but at least it is taking me mind off things enough for me to not remember how many things were on me mind in the first place_, he thought in amusement.

There was the loss of his beloved_ Pearl_, which had hit him particularly hard given the track record for how long it usually took to retrieve it from the cold, dead hands of his mutinous first mate (ten years was the last record, and it didn't seem likely that there would be any improvement on that this time around).

And then there were the... _side-effects_ of his time in the Locker. That was the only real way to describe them. They would appear at any time, day or night, and were frighteningly realistic. Once he had almost fainted (no, not fainted, he had just been overwhelmed by how true to life the vision was, that's all) in the aftermath of an episode, and it had nearly cost him his reputation as a bloodthirsty, notorious, brutal, deceitful, cruel, murderous, cutthroat pirate. Almost. Fortunately, he was Captain Jack Sparrow and he was intelligent enough to blame the incident of the ludicrous amount of rum he'd had to drink. And being Captain Jack Sparrow, everyone had believed him without question.

But the fear of another hallucination still haunted him. Whilst sailing back from World's End they had been mildly useful, each new version of his dashing self willing enough to help out and act in his best interests - telling him that up equalled down and that sunrises set for instance. But since his return from the Maelstrom and battle with Davy Jones, some versions of himself had defected and become quite sinister. Not only that, but other people had also started to appear in his visions, many of them those old friends that he just loved to receive visits from.

Therefore, when Jack found himself staring at his ship just offshore from Tortuga, in bright daylight, the ship on display in front of the whole port, he merely believed it to be a figment of his overactive imagination. And when Barbossa and the rest of his crew graciously disembarked the _Black Pearl_ and casually strolled over to him, he had no reason to believe that they were real - after all, what possible reason would they have for coming back for him now, two months after they had left him here in the first place?

Jack eyed his ship with intense suspicion as he drew nearer, it being the first time that the Black Pearl had ever made an appearance in his hallucinations. But it was a welcome relief to see his ship again, even if it was only a result of his delirium, and as his eyes traced the outline of the hull and the mast and the stern and the helm a strange calmness overcame him. Usually when faced with the prospect of having to listen to visions berate and criticise him, Jack would feel nervous, maybe slightly panicked, but there was an air of nonchalance about him when he finally turned to face the vision of his enemy and his faithful and deceitful crew.

"I must admit we were expectin' a more hostile welcomin' party than we're presently bein' offered," Barbossa taunted remorselessly, his eyes locking onto Jack's with concentrated fury.

"Hector," Jack greeted pleasantly, extending his hand to his former first mate, who merely chose to stare in confusion at Jack's outstretched arm before narrowing his eyes at him, "How've ye been?"

"All the worse fer seein' ye here." Barbossa returned graciously, not entirely sure where this conversation was going.

"Good," Jack exclaimed, happy that this vision of Barbossa had not yet made any threats of violence towards him, "I thank you for gracing me mind with yer presence."

Barbossa exchanged uncertain looks with several members of his crew before realisation dawned on him and a sinister smile flickered across his face, "And I thank yer mind fer its hospitality," all of a sudden he pulled out his pistol and fired at a nearby house, the bullet piercing the glass of the window and causing a panicked female scream from inside.

Jack squinted at the house, trying to work out how a figment of his imagination was able to perforate the real world. He then turned back to face Barbossa, whose pistol was now pointed in his direction, "Oh. Not friendly then," he concluded disappointedly.

Barbossa sneered and cocked his pistol, "Ye might want to be reconsiderin' yer initial conclusion."

Jack opened his mouth to speak but stopped, his eyes drawn back to the 'vision' of his ship that was docked only a short distance away. Was it real - was the _Black Pearl_ really here, in Tortuga? Jack wrinkled his forehead in bewilderment, before his eyes were drawn to a nearby crate on the dock, filled to the brim with exotic orange fruits. On a spur of the moment, he quickly made to grab an orange from the crate and threw it at his ship. Rather than travelling straight through the _Black Pearl_, which should have been the case if it had been a hallucination, it bounced off the hull and fell straight into the water. Satisfied that he was staring at a real _Black Pearl_ floating offshore, Jack turned back to face Barbossa, his dark eyes carefully inspecting every inch of the pirate's broad figure for any signs of realness.

"That observation wasn't worth wastin' a perfectly good orange on, I assure ye." Barbossa noted in amusement at the rapid recognition appearing on Jack's face. His expression changed from confusion, to surprise, to bitterness and anger in the space of a few moments.

After a moment, a dark smile flitted across his face "What are ye waiting for?" Jack provoked, gesturing towards the pistol pointed in his direction, "You might as well finish the job while ye're in town."

"Or start anew, as it were," Barbossa countered, lowering his pistol and putting it away.

Jack narrowed his eyes cautiously at him, still expecting him to do something violent such as drawing his sword and running him through with it, "And what reason would ye be having for that, I wonder?" for the first time his gaze shifted to his crew, his eyes roaming over every individual crew member that had apparently been content enough to leave him behind, "And what makes ye think that I'd accept yer proposal to start anew, given that ye've now stolen my ship a grand total of two times?" he paused as his eyes settled on what must have been two relatively new crew members, but Jack could have sworn that he'd seen them both before somewhere.

The two crew members in question, Murtogg and Mullroy, shrunk nervously under Jack's questioning gaze (the former nudging the latter for keeping eye contact with him), fearful that he had seen through their pirate attire and worked out that they were the two Royal Navy officers he had encountered all those months ago in Port Royal.

Before Jack had a chance to question the two crewmen, Barbossa spoke up exasperatedly, "Fer the record I did not steal yer ship, I merely set sail on _my_ ship and conveniently left ye behind."

Jack frowned and raised his hand, ready to disagree with Barbossa's statement, "Actually, I think ye'll find the _Black Pearl_'s my ship, and I'd reason that yer decision to leave me behind was not mutually agreed by my crew, therefore your leaving me behind was deliberate and most certainly hindering to yer endeavours, not convenient."

"Only 'cos ye stole my charts!" asserted Barbossa angrily.

"Did not," Jack denied hastily, "I just tampered with them to make them unusable."

Barbossa rolled his eyes, "Are ye going to listen to me proposal or should I just shoot ye now and save meself the bother of explainin' it t'ye?" he reached for his pistol again, waving it at Jack furiously.

"But then I wouldn't be alive to accept or decline yer proposal," offered Jack helpfully.

"Aye," Barbossa conceded through gritted teeth, "But I'll be needin' some rum first."

...

Fourteen years ago

It was like no other place Jack had ever visited. There was a ghostly chill in the air, criminality piercing the fabric of the streets and the houses and the people. Raucous music and drunken singing could be heard from a multitude of narrow passageways, most likely radiating from rowdy and unruly taverns that littered the town. Scandalous young maids wandered the streets, latching onto the nearest man they could find and dragging him inside one of the grubby houses, laughing gaily all the while. All manner of fugitives roamed the area; from lowly pickpockets, to thieves, looters, pilferers, philanderers, murderers and the worst of them all, pirates.

Never had he seen and been able to recall such a gathering of pirates in his life. And every time the thought crossed his mind, his hand was absentmindedly drawn to his arm and to his newly imprinted brand.

_Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer agony as the brand collided with his skin. Pain seared up his arm and engulfed him in its tyrannical embrace, his eyes stinging with tears. He could hear nothing and see nothing, the blazing metal's deadly lick removing all sensation apart from its own. The smell of his charring flesh was nauseating and it took all of his nerves just to keep from retching. All the while his persecutor stood, smiling demonically to himself, revelling in the suffering as he continued to force the brand into his assailant's arm._

_Jack tried to move his arm away from the heat but it was firmly held in place by two guards, whom also held his tense body in place to prevent him from writhing too much - it needed to be a clean 'P' imprint on his arm after all. Any screaming that erupted from his mouth was rendered completely inaudible to him by the burning sensation of the iron._

_After what seemed like hours of endless, everlasting, indescribable pain, the brand was lifted from his skin and the guards released their hold causing Jack to collapse to the floor, his body trembling. His breaths became heavy and laboured with the fear that every intake of air could be his last. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked up at his enemy, the man who had succeeded in ruining his life._

"_I do hope that this lesson has taught you the value of loyalty, and the consequences of betraying it, Jack Sparrow." Beckett admonished cruelly, as his aide, Mr Mercer, and several other East India Trading Company guards shoved the newly branded pirate roughly to his feet and began to shackle his wrists together, "You can take this newfound knowledge all the way to the gallows, where you belong."_

"_Go to hell," was all Jack could offer in response before he was led forcefully out of Beckett's office and towards his cell._

The mark was still fresh and sore, and it was a wonder that it had not become infected in the time it had taken for Jack to escape from his cell in London and stow away on a charter ship to Tortuga, in the middle of the Caribbean. It had been his only option, to run from the country he had once considered his home and head to the only 'known' (though there were many others) pirate port in the world in the hope that he could...

Well, he wasn't really sure what to do now that he'd actually arrived. His immediate thoughts had consisted solely of reaching Tortuga without further incident that would threaten his safety, which was a feat in itself given the number of East India Trading Company ships that patrolled the area, and he had given little concern to his actions once he arrived.

And now he was here, the full reality had hit him. This was it; he was officially classed as a pirate, an outlaw, a thug, a bandit... and any other criminal-related noun he could think of. He'd spent so many years trying to escape his past, to make a name for himself and to live his life as morally and law-abidingly as possible.

Now all of that was gone. He was no longer Captain Jack Sparrow, the merchant sailor. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, the pirate. All because he'd done something right by his moral code - and by acting in a morally justified way he'd been branded an immoral, self-serving pirate. Jack would have laughed at the irony of it all if it wasn't so tragic.

_It's the way the world works, mate. You should know that by now._

Beckett never liked him anyway - that was abundantly clear from the outset, given that the East India Trading Company official had taken great liberty to discover that Jack was descended from pirates and since that date had always treated him distrustfully. He'd deliberately set him up with that... cargo (if it could be called such a word) in the hope that it would show him to be dishonourable, before putting the last nail in the proverbial coffin by blaming the entire EITC's corrupt dealings on him. And being descended from pirates meant that he was immediately seen as guilty, with no chance of clearing his name.

_Descended from pirates... always there to bloody screw me over, aren't you Dad? _

He could always go out and seek out his father, he supposed, even though he'd not seen or heard from him in years - which he guessed was to be expected, given that he was one of the most notorious pirates to ever live and therefore had to take particular care of his safety (which included staying away from those who could be used as leverage against him). He couldn't even really remember what his father looked like, since the last time Jack had had any real contact with him was as a young boy, when he lived at Shipwreck Cove, and back then he had not really taken much notice of the man's attire. All he could remember was that there was a lot of hair. And beads. And other assorted paraphernalia embellishing his hair.

Though surely somebody here would know the whereabouts of his father, since he was supposedly one of the most infamous pirates in the world and there certainly wasn't a lack of people to ask around here. If he was as notorious as he seemed to make out then there must be somebody on this rock that knew where to find him. But then there was the small issue of what Jack would do then - how would he introduce himself to a man he'd not seen in years? And how would Teague react to meeting his long lost son? Perhaps he'd be feeling benevolent enough to offer him some paternal advice about how to live an effective life as a pirate, because Jack had no idea where to begin - his ship was somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, his crew... were gone, and he had no money to his name.

_Not a great start to pirate life, eh?_

Or his father might refuse to speak to him, excommunicate him or... worse. He was a_ pirate_, after all, and that didn't exactly scream ideal father material. Plus, they had never really shared a particularly close father-son relationship.

_So instead of dying to the gallows, I'll be stabbed in the gut by my old man. Well, it would be a memorable way to go, that's for sure._

That was it, then. He had to somehow find his father. An honourable, if not slightly foolish quest, Jack thought to himself. With no option but to start asking around for the name of Edward Teague, Jack adjusted his tricorn hat (the only possession he'd managed to retain hold of throughout his recent ordeal) and headed inside one of the noisy taverns.

* * *

**A/N:** Just as a heads up, for the first ten chapters or so the story will be split between two timelines (one in the present and the other fourteen years in the past, just after Jack is branded a pirate by Beckett but before he sells his soul to Davy Jones to raise his ship - none of the plot is canon, just my interpretation of how Jack's past may have played out) :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Next chapter! I hope you enjoy it, and please remember to let me know what you think! :)

Reminder that POTC does not belong to me.

* * *

"Ye seem to be very friendly with all of the women around here, Jack. One would think ye've spent all yer time here recently." Barbossa taunted as a young blonde woman seated at other side of the tavern waved at Jack for the fourth time since they'd taken their seats. Not only that, but they had both been stopped on three separate occasions by various young damsels, each one appearing more infatuated with Jack Sparrow than the last.

Jack smiled and waved in his usual charming manner at the young woman in question before turning back to Barbossa, his expression immediately turning serious, "So, what be this proposal of yours?" he asked carefully, narrowing his eyes, "After the Fountain of Youth, I presume?"

Barbossa took a swig of his bottle of rum, "I recently came into some intelligence that would prove useful in our journey to the fountain."

"Our journey? What make ye think I'll oblige?" asked Jack, before adding haughtily, "I don't always have the time to be gallivanting after mythical treasure."

"Aye, I can see that," Barbossa snorted, causing Jack to frown and look back at the young woman self-consciously, "'Cos with my knowledge of the Profane Ritual and yer map to the Aqua de Vida the dream of eternal youth can be realised - and given our recent brushes with death I think that'd be a worthwhile investment of our time."

"But if ye kill me before we get there then there'd be no use in goin' at all, mate." Jack reasoned thoughtfully, taking a mouthful of his rum bottle.

"Who's to say I'd kill ye first? By my reckonin' it were you what shot me, not the other way around."

Jack wrinkled his nose unpleasantly at the memory of whom and what caused his own 'death', "Fine, but I will be needin' a better incentive than simply the promise of eternal youth - especially given that you are in more pressing need of a youthful complexion than I am," he explained with a roguish smile, pointing at Barbossa's face decidedly.

"Name yer terms," Barbossa snapped irritably.

"Firstly, the restoration of my position as rightful captain of the _Black Pearl_," answered Jack pointedly, "And secondly, yer word that ye won't attempt any mutinous activities again whilst I am otherwise engaged in Tortuga or other such ports, savvy?" he suddenly paused, realising that he was forgetting something, "And no marooning me on any spits of land," he added curtly.

"Amendment," Barbossa cut in deliberately, causing suspicion to flicker on Jack's face, "Joint captaincy of the _Pearl_ until the completion of the quest," Jack looked at him dubiously, "And ye'll have me word that after its completion I'll never bother ye again."

Jack paused, contemplating Barbossa's offer carefully. "This Profane Ritual," he began, pronouncing the words with an air of mockery, "What is it?"

"That's fer me to know and you to not find out," Barbossa replied sharply, "All ye need to know is that, without it, the waters of the fountain are just about as magical as seawater."

Jack nodded in understanding, even though it irritated him that his former first mate had this secret knowledge that was vital to their journey, "And arguably more important than that what I just asked," he began purposefully, leaning forward, "Be there any significant competition for this prize?"

"Both the British and the Spanish have a limited knowledge of its existence - though it cannot be said whether they will waste resources on findin' it," Barbossa answered soberly, "As fer other pirates, nay, I believe there are no others foolish enough to even attempt it. We'll be goin' it alone."

"Then ye've got yourself a deal, mate," Jack conceded, leaning back in his chair contentedly and taking another sip of his rum.

Barbossa grinned in agreement before staggering to his feet, "I'll start making preparations to set sail at dawn, then, cap'n."

"Aye... captain," Jack swallowed thickly and grimaced as though the last word left him a repulsive taste in his mouth. He continued his false smiles at Barbossa until he was out of sight, before taking a hurried mouthful of his rum to clear the aftertaste of referring to that man as captain.

"You don't actually believe he's goin' to stick to his word, do ye?"

Jack's attention was drawn to an empty chair on the table adjacent to him, where a version of himself had appeared, "Do ye think I'm an idiot? Course he won't," he scoffed in contempt.

"Then what are ye goin' to do about it?" Jack's head darted back to Barbossa's seat, where a second vision was now sitting.

"Do ye somehow find delight in appearing at random intervals to torment me about my various misfortunes?" he asked bitterly.

The first vision stood up from his seat and staggered over to Jack's table, a rum bottle in each hand, "We're merely pointing out the unavoidable facts, Jackie."

"And I'm pointing out that ye don't even exist," Jack reciprocated, "So go away."

The visions ignored him, the second leaning forward on his chair, "All ye really need to do is find out what's required for the Profane Ritual. Then the rest'll just fall into place."

"Or ye just kill Barbossa again," advocated the first, taking a huge swig of each rum bottle and shrugging as the other vision turned to him incredulously, "Securing the _Pearl_ is more important than a poxy trip to a fountain, mate."

Jack regarded the two visions cynically before standing up, "If either of ye come across any advantageous or beneficial information relating to my current predicament then I'll be glad to hear of it, but until that date," Jack waved his hands at them flippantly, "Your counsel is neither needed nor appreciated."

His attention was then drawn to the rest of the tavern, where all of the drunken revellers had fallen silent and were staring at him, confused at his bizarre display. Upon noticing them, Jack squinted and strode towards the centre of the room, "That goes for the lot of you an' all," he proclaimed loudly before swaggering out of the tavern.

...

Gibbs didn't know what to make of what he was seeing. He'd innocently walked into a random tavern to find both Jack and Barbossa having an apparently pleasant conversation in the far corner, rum in hand. Not wanting to disturb the pair, Gibbs had taken a seat a few tables away, the ruckus from the merry inhabitants next to him making it impossible to decipher their conversation, but it appeared a deal was being struck - Jack always preferred to make a deal with someone over a drink in the hope the alcohol would dull their senses enough for him to gain the upper hand in the bargaining process. And that wasn't all that was weird about this particular visit to the tavern. Things had gotten even weirder after Barbossa had got up and left, with Jack proceeding to have a seemingly one-sided conversation with two chairs, before standing up to address the punters and their baffled expressions. After that bizarre display, Jack promptly left, disappearing out of the back door.

Since when had Jack still been in Tortuga? It had been two months since they'd been left there by Barbossa and the rest of the crew and in that time Gibbs had simply assumed that Jack had set off into the sunset and headfirst into another one of his legendary adventures. Therefore, Gibbs had gotten on with his own life, serving on a couple of mediocre pirate ships to turn a decent income, before news of the _Black Pearl_'s whereabouts lead him straight back to the island. And he knew for certain that Jack wasn't aboard the _Pearl_ when it docked, having seen only Barbossa and the crew disembark the ship.

Had Jack really remained in Tortuga all that time? It seemed unusual, as Jack was never one to remain in one place for too long, lest any unsavoury characters discovered his whereabouts and tried to hand him in to the authorities for the bounty on his head. Not to mention that he was never content to remain on land longer than he needed to - the call of the sea too strong for him to resist. So why was he still here? And what was Barbossa doing back in Tortuga now, of all times?

Something wasn't right.

Gibbs got up from his seat and hurried after the captain, determined to find out what was going on. Having left the tavern, it took a moment for Gibbs to notice the unmistakable dreadlocks and red strip of Jack's bandana flapping in the keen wind. He was heading towards the docks and, more importantly, right towards the _Black Pearl_. Gibbs rushed after him, weaving in and out of all manner of folk as he followed him through the winding streets of Tortuga's bustling town. The light was beginning to dim as the Sun began its descent, with many buccaneers heading into the town from the docks after a hard day's work pilfering and plundering.

He called out to Jack but the pirate must not have heard him as he continued walking straight (well, as straight as Captain Jack Sparrow could walk). Fortunately, after a few minutes of following him in this manner, Jack came to a stop in front of a rather plain, thin, young woman who had apparently caught his attention. Gibbs took this opportunity to catch up with him.

"I have been very busy, Clara, but I promise that after tonight is over I shall be all yours, luv," Jack explained with a characteristically charming smile, having not yet noticed Gibbs' presence.

"But Jack, you promised you would take me to that island on your boat, remember?" the girl that had been addressed as Clara replied, her curly, shoulder-length brown hair hanging loosely on her shoulders, a faded cream dress covering her slender frame.

"And I will," was Jack's immediate response, and it was only then that he glanced to his right and noticed that Gibbs was standing next to him, "Just give me tonight to sort meself out and I will take you to this island and serenade you under the moonlight and the stars," he teased enigmatically, leaning in towards her.

"Why can't we go now, Jack?" Clara pleaded desperately in an irritatingly high-pitched tone of voice, glancing suspiciously over at Gibbs.

"I already said, luv, as tragic as it may be, I am a busy man," Jack replied apologetically, before looking at Gibbs with a pleased smile on his face, "Aren't I, Mr Gibbs?"

Gibbs just stared at the captain a moment in confusion, trying to infer from his facial expression what would suffice as an answer to his question.

"Does he speak?" Clara whispered innocently to Jack after a moment of silence between the three of them.

Jack rolled his eyes, "He's just a bit deaf, that's all," his gaze fixed back upon his first mate, "Mr Gibbs!" he shouted, causing Gibbs to jump back in alarm at the captain's commanding tone, "Am I or am I not committed to busy activities with yer good self for the rest of today and tonight? Busy activities that could not otherwise be avoided?"

Gibbs mouth opened and closed like a fish, before he cautiously said, "Ye are...?" his voice rose at the end of his speech, these 'busy activities' being news to him as well.

"Aye," Jack affirmed confidently, glancing back towards Clara again, "Busy, busy, busy. Now, I really must be going," he announced casually, before spinning on his heel and walking off in the direction of the docks.

Gibbs looked at the young girl and smiled, "Pleasure to meet ye, miss Clara," he greeted politely before going to catch up with the captain, Jack's strange behaviour convincing him that there was more than met the eye. He seemed perpetually distracted by something - like all those months ago when he was in search of Davy Jones' key.

Either that or he'd gone completely mad, which was a real possibility.

The two of them had rounded the corner before Gibbs spoke up, "What be these busy activities ye're talkin' of, cap'n?"

Jack suddenly stopped walking, turning to Gibbs with an incredibly serious look on his face, "Do ye have any knowledge of anything related to rituals of the profane variety?"

Gibbs wrinkled his forehead in thought before answering, "Nay, I'm afraid not."

A dejected expression passed over Jack's face before it was quickly replaced by irritation, "Still as useless as ever I see, Mr Gibbs, though ye can still come," he began walking again, Gibbs doing all he could to keep up with him.

"Come where?" the first mate asked earnestly, excitement building at the prospect of sailing with the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow again.

"The Fountain of Youth," answered Jack, "On the _Black Pearl_," he added with a smile.

"Ye got her back then?" Gibbs asked offhandedly, waiting to see if Jack would explain of his own accord what he and Barbossa were talking about in the tavern earlier.

Jack nodded and looked at Gibbs with vigour, "I braved the wilds of Africa before I finally found her, the crew stranded helplessly on a nearby island with mutant dogs and rabbits after their human flesh-"

"Ye mean Barbossa sailed the ship back into Tortuga after a two month absence," Gibbs interjected, causing Jack to shoot him an indignant look, "I saw ye talking to him in the tavern."

"I trust ye'll use yer famed storytelling skills to weave a tale worthy of my name," Jack warned with narrowed eyes, not keen that any others should learn that he had sat idly for two months whilst Barbossa had sailed his ship freely around the Caribbean.

Gibbs fixed him with a stern glare, "I'm assumin' he has a role to play in this here quest of yers?"

"Aye," he conceded, before adding petulantly, "As the only person in the bloody world to have heard of the Profane Ritual - which is the only way the fountain'll work."

"Ye've heard the rumours though, of the Fountain of Youth?" Gibbs asked, glaring at his captain intently.

"Course I bloody have," responded Jack briskly, adjusting his hat as the two continued their walk through the streets of Tortuga.

"Then ye'll have heard the rumour that Jack Sparrow be so hell-bent on findin' the fountain that it's driven him as mad as the March hare."

"You made that up," Jack dismissed fervently, "If it were true it'd be _Captain_ Jack Sparrow," he faltered for a moment, before adding resolutely, "And there'd be no mention of hares."

It had been worth a shot, just to find out what was causing Jack to act so strangely, but it seemed the captain was unwilling to share in whatever was responsible for his latest bout of madness, "I were merely pointing out that there's been a lot said recently about yer state of mind, captain."

"Heard that from yer fellow pirate friends, have ye? Maybe ye should tell 'em to shut it once and a while," Jack suggested as their made their way across the beach to the pier, where the _Black Pearl_ was still docked safe and sound. Looking out onto the ocean, Gibbs noticed the dazzling sunset on the horizon.

They came to a stop just in front of the dock and Jack instantly pulled out his compass. He tentatively opened the lid, as though expecting something horrible to be hiding inside, and, upon realising the direction that the needle was pointing in, he wrinkled his nose in disgust, confusion drifting across his face. Before Gibbs had a chance to lean over and see what was wrong with his compass, Jack swiftly closed the lid and put it away, his bewilderment disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

If Gibbs hadn't been concerned by Jack's behaviour before, this certainly convinced him that something was up with the captain. He frowned, "If Barbossa knows the ritual for the fountain, then why has he permitted ye on his-" Jack shot him an angry look, "I mean, yer ship?"

Jack squinted into the distance before turning his attention back to Gibbs, pulling out his part of the Navigational Charts from under his coat, a smirk flitting across his features, "Leverage, mate."

"Aye," Gibbs acknowledged in admiration, returning his smile.

"But the less known about the exact whereabouts of said leverage, the better, so if any mutinous first mates come askin' for their whereabouts, ye reply that ye've never seen them before, savvy?" Jack continued sharply as he put the charts back, his eyes boring into Gibbs' with an air of seriousness that was only expressed by the captain in the direst of circumstances.

Gibbs nodded, "I'm assuming ye have a plan for said mutinous persons?"

Jack wavered for a moment, one of the few times when Gibbs had seen him genuinely unsure of himself, "I'm workin' on it. In the meantime, we must act with all civility and pretend smiles towards our dearest friend, Hector Barbossa."

...

Fourteen years ago

Jack was taken aback by the cheerfulness of the place. For an island full of criminals, there was a surprising air of geniality amongst the revellers (alongside licentiousness and general wantonness of course) - he had half-expected to walk in and find himself embroiled in a bar brawl. Conduct here seemed more decent than some of the taverns he used to frequent back in London (perhaps the life of an outlaw wasn't that bad after all, he mused quietly to himself). He carefully took his seat on an empty table in the far corner of the room, far enough away to remain in the shadows, but close enough to overhear any potential conversations relating to his father.

The longer he sat there, the more he questioned what it was that he was doing. How likely was it that at this very time in this very tavern in this very island in the Caribbean there would be pirates discussing the very person he was looking for? What chance was there that he would hear someone mention Teague's name?

_A fool's chance, mate._

It could still happen. Though, there was probably a better chance of it happening if he actually asked around, rather than remaining a recluse in the corner of the room.

_Try to get information out of rum-soaked pirates that can barely string a coherent sentence together? Sounds like a _great_ idea._

If he was going to fit in this place, he would need to, at some point, make some friends. Well, maybe not friends. Acquaintances. Colleagues. Contacts. People that he could depend upon. Especially if he was going to somehow obtain a ship and become a pirate captain - he figured that he might as well aspire to be the best around here, given that the 'P' mark on his arm prevented him from returning to the honest lifestyle he had enjoyed (_was that the right word?_) before. There was no harm in a little bit of ambition, was there? And besides, he did make a great captain - even Beckett had to admit that during his time in the employ of the East India Trading Company.

"Ye did remember what I said I'd do to ye if ye didn't bring me the money," Jack's attention was suddenly drawn to a tall, broad pirate sat a few tables away, who was speaking rather loudly to another, a dark haired, large fellow with a large bottle of rum in his hands.

"An' I don't 'ave it. So what ye gonna do?" the larger man slurred, the effects of the alcohol clear to see on his face.

Jack could see the taller man's body tense and sensed his anger, despite not being able to see the man's face, "I'm goin' to ask ye nicely. What did ye do with it?"

"That's none of yer business." he replied curtly, slamming the bottle onto the table in disgust.

The taller man rose from his seat, "I think ye'll find that it is, given that ye've used my money fer yer own business an' have failed to give it back to me. An' I don't take kindly to scoundrels such as yerself," he warned menacingly, pressing both hands to the table and leaning over the other man.

The debtor then stood, levelling the man's furious gaze, "An' what are ye gonna do about it?" he asked daringly, to which he was roughly punched in the face and hurtled back into his seat, which tipped over and caused the man to hit the floor with a thud. He quickly staggered to his feet, drunken rage clearly visible on his face as he lunged at his attacker, knocking them both to the ground.

Jack looked on in alarm as the two engaged in a vicious brawl, using whatever pieces of furniture they could find as blunt instruments to strike the other with. Tables were uprooted, chairs thrown and swords drawn as the two made their way around the tavern, and several others began to get involved in the scuffle as well, purposely punching and kicking whoever was nearest to them in order to provoke a fight from other drunken merrymakers.

Shrinking into his corner, Jack immediately regretted his initial observation about the agreeableness of the place and began scanning the darkened room for a way out. He wasn't going to get involved in a fight merely for the sake of it and, even if he had, there was little chance he could match the physical strength of the intoxicated brutes that he'd come face-to-face with.

As he searched the room frantically for a way to slip out of the tavern, his eyes rested upon the two pirates who had initiated the free-for-all. The man who owed money was holding a chair, blocking the hits from the other man's sword. They were gradually making their way closer to Jack, who quickly shuffled his chair back and lifted his own bottle of rum from the table, before making to stand up and scuttle off. However, before he had a chance to, the taller man managed to knock the chair out of the other's hands and struck him with the hilt of his sword, causing the debtor to fly backwards and collide into Jack's table.

The wooden table snapped into two with the weight of the man and Jack recoiled in shock. For a moment, it seemed that the force of the blow had knocked him out, but he then tried to get up, seemingly hell-bent on injuring the other. Nevertheless, the taller man noticed and at that moment his eyes flew to Jack and in particular the bottle he held in his hand.

"May I?" he asked politely, gesturing at the rum bottle.

Jack stared at the bottle in question before obediently handing it over to him. The man nodded in thanks before he smashed the bottle over his assailant's head, causing him to fall to the floor unconscious. Both Jack and the man looked simultaneously over at him to check that he was indeed out cold.

The man turned to Jack, "I apologise fer wastin' yer rum on that weasel," he said sincerely.

Jack merely gawked at the man in response, taken aback by how quickly he had changed from making and carrying out threats of violence to apologising for taking away his alcohol. Eventually, he managed to respond mutely with a, "No problem, mate."

"Nay," the man shook his head, "I must make amends fer the inconvenience I've caused ye. Let me buy ye another."

Upon noticing how rowdy the tavern had become since the beginning of his fight, the man suggested they move to another one and Jack compliantly followed him outside into the night. The ground was sodden with rain that was torrentially falling from the sky, but despite the sudden change in weather the man didn't seem to be in any hurry.

"What's yer name, lad?" the man asked amiably as the two walked through the rain towards another tavern.

"Jack Sparrow," he answered, realising how dull and ordinary his name sounded without the word 'Captain' in front. _I really need to fix that and get myself a ship._

"Hector Barbossa," the man returned cordially despite Jack having not asked for his name in return, "I take it ye're not from here?"

Jack frowned to himself. What should he say? Should he be honest with this man, this stranger, this _pirate_ and tell him that that he had been employed with the East India Trading Company? Or should he just lie and say... what should he say?

"Not exactly," Jack replied vaguely, "Used to live in London. Was fed up with the... weather... so I fancied a change of scenery."

An unsettling grin appeared on Hector's face, "Only recently turned pirate, aye?" Jack paled as the man's gaze fixed on him, "Ye needn't worry 'bout me turnin' ye into the authorities. If I handed ye in they'd only send me to the gallows as well."

So he was a pirate. _Good observation_, he noted dryly, "As a matter of fact, I'm here specifically on an errand," Jack began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "I'm looking for someone. Captain Teague."

Hector stopped in his tracks, the mention of the name having piqued his interest, "Teague, ye say? An' what would a whelp like ye be wantin' with him, I wonder?"

Jack held the man's gaze for a moment before responding, his leather hat and medium-length hair becoming sodden with the rain, "I wondered if he was recruiting. For a crew," he added as an afterthought.

"There be many pirate captains in this port in need of a crew," Hector explained matter-of-factly, "What makes ye so inclined to join Teague's? Do ye know him?"

"In a manner of speaking," Jack acknowledged indifferently, before his eyes met Hector's in deliberate seriousness, "I'm his son."

Hector stared at Jack a long moment before he began to laugh, "Are ye now?" Jack frowned at the sarcasm in his words, "Everyone knows that Teague's son abandoned piracy in favour of employ with the-"

"East India Trading Company," Jack interrupted abruptly, finishing Hector's sentence, "And he didn't abandon it. He just chose not to take it up as an occupation until he had no other choice," he rolled up the sleeve of his coat to reveal his brand, still raw and tender.

Hector's eyes widened at the sight of the 'P' mark on the lad's arm, it reminding him of the many dangers of pirate life, "That doesn't prove anything. For all I know ye could be an imposter, a charlatan intendin' to stain his bad name an' take his fortune," he replied sceptically.

"Your concern leads me to assume that ye're a close associate of his?" Jack asked, narrowing his eyes.

Hector gave a sly smile, "I have what ye could call an invested interest in his affairs."

"Then you would know that only close associates know his name," Jack declared, raising his head confidently, "His first name."

"An' that is?" Hector challenged impatiently.

"Edward," answered Jack smugly, "All close associates know this, and you should know that all close associates know this as you are one yourself, are ye not?"

Jack knew that whether or not Hector knew this information was unimportant. If he did, then he would know that Jack was telling the truth. If he didn't, he would be forced into a situation whereby he would have to accept that Jack was telling the truth since he wouldn't know for certain that Jack wasn't telling the truth, and he couldn't risk questioning whether Jack was telling the truth because it would betray the fact that he didn't know the truth, and he'd already implied to Jack that he knew the truth so that would prove him to be untruthful.

It seemed that manipulating pirates wasn't much different from manipulating snivelling officers of the East India Trading Company - maybe Jack could put up with this kind of lifestyle after all.

"An' ye're confident ye wish to seek out yer father?" Hector's voice brought Jack out of his reverie, "Even though he may not wish fer yer seekin'?"

The rain was becoming lighter and breaks in the clouds were starting to appear, "I take it you can aid me in this seeking?"

"Aye, I'd be willing to help ye," Hector affirmed, "I can offer the means of getting ye on his ship."

Jack nodded, "Then I'm more than willing to accept your help."

As Jack took a breath and admired his own spectacular negotiating skills, he'd neglected to realise one very important detail that had the potential to ruin his plans. For a deal to be struck properly, the outcomes were required to be _mutually _beneficial. How would Barbossa benefit from escorting Jack on Teague's ship?

Unfortunately, that thought didn't cross his mind until it was too late.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! I'm hoping that the split between present and fourteen years ago isn't too confusing - to make it slightly easier whenever the story is in the past Barbossa will simply be referred to as Hector.

Next chapter, we get to meet Teague and perhaps another _slightly_ important character that plays a key role in the story... who knows? :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm back with another chapter! This one should start to move the story along a bit, as well as explaining how I'm interpreting and using the legend of the Fountain of Youth that is used in On Stranger Tides (don't get me wrong, I do like that movie, but I find it just can't quite compete with the original trilogy - but I guess that's why Fanfiction exists!).

Reminder that I do not own POTC.

* * *

Nine years, three-hundred and seventeen days.

The sounds of the birds overhead woke her earlier than usual, their clarion cries mingled with the low murmur of life taking place outside her house. She forced herself to sit up, her hair unkempt from another night of restlessness, her spirit still absent. Pushing herself off the bed, she delicately made her way over to her window and looked out onto the island she was contrived to call her home.

_The Dauntless_ stood proud, just offshore, whilst an array of smaller merchant vessels were calmly making their way towards the docks.

From its position atop a modest hillside, Elizabeth had a breathtaking view of the open ocean and the docks of Port Royal. She'd chosen it specifically due to its location; it was near the sea, where she could look out and lose herself in the immortal waves, and it was near to the town, so that she wasn't forced to suffer the potential grievance of wandering too close to her old home.

She was no longer the daughter of a Governor, so could not inhabit the house she had grown up in. And she was quite glad - if she all but glanced at the house it would evoke too many difficult memories. She'd suffered enough in her first few days here; every building reminding her of the times she had wandered the streets with William, every glance to the fort forcing her to recall the many pleasant conversations she had shared with James and any glimpse at the cliff-face that had almost been her ruin reminding her of the circumstances that had led her to this point in time.

"_I saved your life, you save mine, we're square."_

"_It wasn't your blood they needed. It was my father's blood. My blood. The blood of a pirate."_

"_There is more than one chest of value in these waters."_

"_You and I, I and you. Us."_

"_How can I trust you?"_

"_Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth, but never joined."_

"_And made you captain? They're just giving the bloody title away now."_

"_Revenge won't bring yer father back, and it's not something I'm intendin' to die for."_

"_Once is quite enough."_

"_Keep a weather eye on the horizon."_

Her attention quickly shifted from the expanse of ocean to her bedside drawer. She walked over to it and opened the drawer, pulling out a small piece of folded and tear-stained paper. She unfurled it and read the words that had shaped her existence from that fateful day.

_My dearest Elizabeth,_

_I hope you are safe and well, and that this letter has reached you without incident. We are due to sail to World's End tomorrow morning to make a start at clearing the backlog of souls that were neglected in Davy Jones' charge. The journey will be long and tiresome, but necessary and I may be absent from this world for the next two months in order to complete it._

_There was so much left unsaid during our brief day together, and I wish to use this letter to yet again express how much I love you. I will perform the duty I have been duly charged with, and in nine years, three hundred and sixty-three days we shall be together once more. I trust with all my heart that you will be as patient as I._

_There is only one thing I beg of you, Elizabeth. I understand your fascination with pirate life, but I wish to see you safe and out of harm's way, and the only way I can be sure of that is if you retire from piracy. Return to Port Royal, or even England, and to your secure life. That is all I must ask of you._

_I hope to write to you again as soon as I return from my long journey. Until then, be strong, my love and our patience will be rewarded._

_Love,_

_William_

Her vision blurred as she read the letter, every time hearing his voice in her head as though he had never left her. She had obeyed his wish and severed her links with pirates, departing from Shipwreck Cove a mere two days after receiving his letter.

But now, two months on, she was becoming agitated. She longed for the adventure, the freedom, the danger that came with that lifestyle. She felt as though she was being gradually starved of sustenance, she shunned all society and remained a recluse, rarely leaving her house.

She needed to feel alive again.

"_You long for freedom. You long to do what you want to do because you want it. To act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day, you won't be able to resist."_

Jack had her spot on. She understood and wanted more than anything to respect Will's wishes, but she felt as though she was betraying her own in the process. She didn't want to live this way for the next nine years and greet Will on their next day together as a shadow of her former self.

Yet could she bring herself to openly oppose Will? To head out to sea, return to Shipwreck Cove, to resume command of the _Empress_? If something was to happen to her, if she was to die at sea, if Will was forced to ferry her soul to the next world, could she live with herself knowing that could happen?

_Best not to let yourself die then, darlin'._

But she might be able to see him again. If she returned to sea, she could seek out the _Flying Dutchman _and find Will, talk to him, be near him again. Even if only for a short while, before he was forced to sail into the sunset again. That fact alone was enough to convince her that she wasn't simply doing this for her own selfish reasons.

_Pirate._

It had been two months. Will should be back from World's End by now. If she could just make her way to Shipwreck Cove, procure a ship, a crew and make way for...

For where? There was no telling where he might be. Where would she even begin? Would her crew even agree to her quest?

_You're better off lookin' for him at sea than on land, luv._

Her mind decided, she put the note to one side and opened her wardrobe, taking out a white shirt, breeches and brown waistcoat she'd kept purposely in case she ever changed her mind. She quickly got changed before heading downstairs to find a blank piece of paper. No matter how silly it sounded, she wanted to write a note to Will to explain her actions, in case an accident should befall her while at sea. He would hopefully find the note and understand why she chose to go against his wishes.

She scribbled as heartfelt and honest a note as she could muster before rolling it up, tying it with string and securing it to her ornate necklace, a figure of a swan given to her by Teague before she left Shipwreck Cove, one of many treasures he had acquired in his long life, but one he had seen fit to give to her.

_Teague held out to her an exquisite silver necklace, "Since ye are so insistent on leaving, I must insist ye take this."_

"_Oh no, I couldn't," Elizabeth shook her head, turning away from the pirate captain and busying herself with packing the few belongings that she'd managed to acquire from her and Will's old cabin on the Black Pearl._

"_Miss," she heard Teague call out as she shoved a clean set of clothes into a leather bag. After realising she wasn't going to respond, he cleared his throat, "Your highness," Elizabeth turned her head and just caught him throwing the silver necklace, it landing comfortably in the bag beside her, "Jackie gets his stubbornness from me, not his mother."_

_This prompted a small smile to flit across her face, the first time she had done so since that fateful day. Elizabeth reached into the bag and lifted the pendant up, allowing it to glimmer in the sunlight streaming through the window of the room, "It's a..."_

"_Swan." Teague interrupted abruptly, "Supposed to represent light and purity, and provide the wearer with inner strength and protection, much like the way a female swan fiercely guards her cygnets. Thought it appropriate."_

_Elizabeth brushed her finger along the swan's outline, "But why do you want me to have it? Don't you want to keep it? Why would you part with it?"_

"_I have my reasons," Teague responded vaguely, "The only thing I ask is that you don't sell it. Keep it. Wear it. I trust it will keep you safe until you can be reunited with," he paused, "Him."_

Shaking her head to clear the memory, Elizabeth then set about finding her old sword, which she had decided to keep in case she was ever put in a situation where she needed to defend herself (living alone did have its drawbacks). She returned upstairs and rummaged under her bed for a few minutes until she found it, along with the leather bag. She secured the blade to her belt, before tying her hair in a loose ponytail and packing her things again, ready to set off for Shipwreck Cove.

There was only one thing that tempted her to stay: Will's heart. She had been tasked with keeping it safe, and until her dying breath she promised to do so. But, with her away from Port Royal and the chest's location, how would she keep it safe?

It was then that she was reminded that only she, William and his father knew of its exact location. Only they knew whereabouts on this lonely island the chest had been buried. So, in her absence, there was no reason why it wouldn't remain undisturbed. After all, Davy Jones' own heart must have been safe on Isla Cruces for many years before the crew of the Black Pearl made their way there. And, while Port Royal wasn't the most desolate island in the Caribbean, the place she had decided to bury the chest was uninhabited and difficult to reach on foot. There was no chance of anybody coming across it by accident.

Her own heart skipped a beat, a tense feeling of excitement mingled with nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She would find Will, even if it meant sailing across all of the seven seas. She wouldn't be confined by this curse bestowed upon them. Why couldn't they be together at sea? On whose authority was it that she was confined to land for the rest of her days?

This was _her _one day, the one day she decided her longing for freedom was too strong to resist.

...

"You fixed the cross-breeze," Jack grimaced and waved his arm indignantly at the newly-repaired glass window in his cabin. He turned back to his fellow captain with a look of petulant disgust, "Why did you fix the cross-breeze for?"

It took all of Barbossa's resolve not to clobber him round the head with his pistol at that remark, "I do _apologise_," he scoffed bitterly, "But someone has to make sure our ship's fit fer purpose."

"My ship," Jack sauntered over to his desk and started opening and rummaging through drawers, "Why do ye insist on having this place so damned tidy? Same problem last time I got the _Pearl_ back." He now set about taking various maps and charts out of the drawers and arranging them carelessly on the desk space.

"Not all of us are content to work in such a mess," Barbossa folded his arms impatiently as Jack proceeded to throw various pieces of paper out of the desk drawers and onto the cabin floor, the hours spent organising his cabin wasted within a matter of moments of that idiot coming aboard.

"But I am, and I'm the only person that counts," Jack flashed him a grin before settling himself on the seat, "Now," he chose that moment to lean back in his chair, folding his arms and resting his legs on the desk and all over Barbossa's precious paperwork, "To affairs of captainliness."

As if on cue, Gibbs, Pintel and Ragetti then entered the cabin, and upon seeing Jack the latter two shuffled nervously back through the doorframe in hope that they might escape before being noticed. Unfortunately for them, it was Barbossa that had first noticed their presence and sent them a stern look, silently ordering them to stay put.

Barbossa turned to face Jack, "We'll firstly need to be headin' to Shipwreck Cove, where I can procure a vital ingredient for the fountain. If we set off now, we can be there in just under five days, since the wind's currently working in our favour."

"Shipwreck Cove," Jack repeated dumbly, "What ingredient could you possibly acquire there, other than rum or sand?"

"A mermaid's tear," Barbossa answered simply, "Or, to be precise, two of 'em."

His answer had a peculiar effect on his listeners. Gibbs' eyes widened to the point of no return, before he muttered a brief prayer to a higher power and crossed his chest, while Pintel and Ragetti exchanged uncertain looks before copying Gibbs and crossing their own chests. A sincere expression of bafflement, meanwhile, flickered across Jack's face.

Pintel was the first to speak, "A mermaid?" he gulped nervously.

"He clearly said two mermaids," corrected Ragetti.

Pintel looked at his fellow pirate in irritation, "I know what he said! The quantity ain't no matter, it's the idea what's the problem."

"Are ye mad?" Gibbs interrupted, looking firstly to Jack, whose expression was as unreadable as ever, and then to Barbossa in extreme astonishment, "Ye'll get us all killed!"

Barbossa regarded Gibbs' expression of horror for a moment before beginning to chuckle to himself, "Never thought I'd see the day when pirates got so scared over a few fish."

"Ye must know the stories, Barbossa," Gibbs began warily, "Of the many honest sailors seduced by their pure and virtuous voices, only to be ripped to shreds by their sharpened teeth." At this, both Pintel and Ragetti's faces paled in fear.

"And the rumour that a kiss from a mermaid can save ye from drownin'," Barbossa added with a roll of his eyes, "Aye, Master Gibbs, I've heard the stories."

Jack chose that moment to speak up, "You won't find mermaids at Shipwreck Cove, mate. Ye're better off trying-"

"Whitecap Bay, by any chance?" Barbossa interjected in mock surprise, before irritation once again appeared on his face, "Aye, heard that story too. Ye all appear to be forgettin' that not once did I say I was after an _actual_ mermaid. We only need a tear for the ritual to work. Two, preferably."

Ragetti looked cautiously at his captain, "But, surely for a tear to be obtained it requires the presence of an actual," he paused, his eye widening in horror at the thought, "physical, living, breathing, mermaid?"

"And ye'd have to get it to cry," Gibbs added wryly, "Which is no mean feat."

Realisation was quickly dawning on Jack, "That's only necessary if you're the acquirer of the tears," he explained, giving Barbossa a sideways glance, "If you're just the purchaser of said tears, the acquisition need not matter. And being the purchaser means ye won't need to contact the acquisitioned property," noticing Barbossa's agreement, Jack let a smile pass onto his face, "Shrewd. I like it. And I assume you know a suitable acquirer?"

Barbossa nodded, ignoring the air of complete bewilderment in Pintel and Ragetti's features, "Aye."

"Then Shipwreck Cove it is, my good gentlemen," Jack announced pleasingly, "I'll chart the course and ye can go on deck and order everyone around. After all, your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone."

"Not so fast," Barbossa cut in as Jack took his feet off the table and was beginning to organise the charts that lay on it, "We will not be goin' anywhere till I am sure that ye know where ye are goin'."

Jack pouted at him, "I am highly offended by your insult to my navigational skills. You should know that my skills are unrivalled throughout the Caribbean... and the world," he added as an afterthought.

"The charts," Barbossa growled, "I need to see 'em."

"Funny that," Jack waved a finger in the air, "'Need' is an interesting word, wouldn't you agree? It would imply that one cannot survive without the noun it precedes," he rose from his chair, "Which is, of course, not always true - somebody may say they need apples," he gestured towards Barbossa, "for example, but can function perfectly well without them. Same applies here - you do not need the map to live out your everyday life, so what would be the point in asking for it?" A final roguish smile ended his dialogue.

"This time, I won't miss," Barbossa warned through gritted teeth, resting his hand on the pistol in his belt.

"Ye really need to address yer anger problem, mate. One day someone's going to get hurt." Jack reached inside his coat and drew out the rolled up map. He waved it dramatically at his former first mate before unfurling it and revealing the complex map, "Happy now?"

"I'll go up on deck then, and leave ye to yer expert navigation then, Cap'n." Barbossa assented beore leaving the cabin, the way he referred to Jack as captain more sinister than reassuring, reminding him of the betrayal and mutiny all those years ago.

As soon as Barbossa was out of ear shot, Gibbs took a step towards Jack, "Never thought I'd see the day when Barbossa decided to call ye captain, captain."

Pintel then spoke up, both him and Ragetti still confused by Jack and Barbossa's earlier conversation, "You said we, or rather Barbossa, be the purchaser of mermaid tears? What does that mean, exactly?"

"Mean as in, will it involve direct confrontation with a mermaid?" Ragetti clarified.

Jack sighed at the two simple-minded fools, "There will be no mermaids, gentlemen, I assure ye of that. Barbossa will barter for the mermaid tears at Shipwreck Cove. It'll save us a lengthy trip to Whitecap Bay to acquire them ourselves."

Pintel and Ragetti nodded, feeling reassured that they wouldn't have to come face-to-face with the beasts.

Jack sat back down and a moment passed in silence, before his eyes were drawn back to the pair, "You," he pointed at Pintel, whose eyes widened in alarm, "Have any strange events befallen you in the two months under the captaincy of the mutinous fiend?"

"Fiend?" Pintel asked dumbly.

"He means Barbossa," Ragetti muttered to his friend.

Pintell scratched his head thoughtfully, "I think I had an enlightenment... a message from a higher power, as it were, a few days into our journey."

"You don't say 'I think I had an enlightenment'," Ragetti chastised, "The proper grammar is 'I think I was enlightened'. Makes all the difference when you're referring to Him," he pointed upwards prudently.

"I mean my vessel," Jack butted in loudly, "Were there any strange incidences on the _Black Pearl_?"

"What about the boat?" Ragetti whispered to Pintel suddenly.

"What boat?" Pintel and Jack answered at the same time.

Ragetti looked at his friend poignantly, "You know... _that_ boat."

Jack frowned. "Oh, that boat!" Pintel returned happily, "The one Barbossa said we shouldn't mention to..." he trailed off as the two glanced at Jack guiltily.

"So there was a boat," Jack noted blankly, that the only information he'd gleamed from their exchange, "What kind of boat?"

"A big, scary boat!" Pintel exclaimed, to which he received a harsh nudge in the ribs from his friend. Pintel looked at him, "But it _was_ a big boat!" he protested.

"But we shan't say no more," Ragetti edged in front of his friend nervously, "Would be imprudent to reveal what should be told by Barbossa."

Jack glared at the two pirates as they speedily left the captain's quarters, leaving him and Gibbs alone. After a moment, Jack turned to him, "What the bloody hell was that?" he muttered darkly.

"Smells like mutiny to me, captain," Gibbs folded his arms, "It seems the war against Beckett did nothing to change his morals."

"Once a mutineer, always a mutineer," Jack replied gravely, staring absentmindedly at the cabin door. All of a sudden, a thought crossed his mind and Jack shifted his gaze to his first mate, a sly smile on his face, "Unless we beat him to it."

"Beg pardon?" It was now Gibbs' turn to be confused.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Didn't you listen to a word I just said, Mr Gibbs?"

Gibbs couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his captain's eye, "But those were a lot of words, and it would be helpful for them to be condensed into an easily understandable chunk."

"Mutiny, Mr Gibbs," said Jack matter-of-factly, "Against the mutineer."

"Mutiny?" Gibbs repeated, open mouthed. He took a few steps closer to the desk, until he was right in front of it, before whispering, "How can we mutiny against someone who isn't the captain?"

"Ah!" Jack put his finger up to silence Gibbs, grinning impishly, "May have failed to mention that my captaincy is a joint one - with Barbossa."

"Ye're both captains of this ship?" Jack nodded. "So mutiny against Barbossa would be possible..." Gibbs trailed off, realising that they were both getting carried away by their thoughts, "But, Jack, it's against the code. It's against everything ye stand for."

"Every time I've stuck by the code it's always led to my near ruin," Jack pointed out hotly, his eyes ablaze with bitterness and anger that Gibbs had not seen since the battle against the Armada, "So can ye blame me if I'm tempted to use underhand means to achieve my aims for once?"

Gibbs sighed at his captain. It caused him more pain than he cared to admit to see his friend so willing to turn to surreptitious means of securing his existence, given that he had always respected him for not always turning to violence to solve an issue. The combination of both mutinies and his 'death' had really damaged the man's confidence, even if he cleverly hid it behind the bravado.

Gibbs had no counter to Jack's argument, so tried a different tact to change his mind, "And the fountain? If ye maroon Barbossa, ye'll no longer have the knowledge of the ritual."

"No matter," refuted Jack, "Regaining the _Pearl_ is far more important, and there's bound to be someone other than the fiend that knows of the ritual," he hesitated a moment, "Hopefully."

"So I'm guessing ye want me to spread word of mutiny around the rest of the crew?" Gibbs asked reluctantly.

Jack reached for his compass and unconsciously began to pass it from one hand to the other, "Just invent an incriminating story about Barbossa and I'm sure they'll come round."

"Aye captain," Gibbs nodded and promptly left Jack alone in his quarters.

Upon noticing his compass in his hand, Jack glared at it and put it down on his desk. Looking around the cabin, Jack's attention was drawn to the ridiculous neatness of the place. Did Barbossa spend all of his time in here tidying? It certainly looked that way. At least he'd managed to sort out his desk and had managed to make it look more homely. A desk shouldn't be tidy as it makes one look rather unproductive. At least if there's clutter then it tells people there's work being done - or at least being attempted.

"Resortin' to killin' me then, aye?"

Jack cried out in surprise at the familiar voice and fell off his chair, falling to the floor with a thud. It took a moment for him to recover and clamber back onto his seat, taking in Barbossa's form with a pang of anxiety in his chest. He swallowed, "Just playing you at yer own game, mate," he said as nonchalantly as he could muster.

Barbossa simply smirked at him, a terrifying grin that Jack found often preceded threats of violence, "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"What if I'm not trying to be right?" replied Jack defensively. In response, Barbossa just laughed, the noise reverberating painfully in Jack's mind, causing him to clutch his head desperately, "Stop it."

The demonical laughter continued, but Jack watched on in horror as the apparition of Barbossa began to mutate into Cutler Beckett, a devilish smile still on his lips. Jack could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow and had to take several deep breaths to keep from crying out like a girl.

"It's just good business, Jack Sparrow. You owe nothing to that man, that fiend, that _pirate_," Beckett spat, his features remaining sinisterly placid.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, "Now I know ye're not real, 'cause ye're dead. I personally saw to that meself - with the help of other assorted persons."

"You're forgetting something, Jack," Beckett replied patronisingly, "I am a representation of the turmoil inside your small mind, which makes me real enough to be true."

Jack's knuckles were turning white from strongly gripping the edge of his desk, "Yet your form inclines me not to believe a word you say, given your appalling track record for honesty."

Beckett slowly walked until he was in the centre of the cabin, Jack's eyes locked onto his, "You may find blinking helps."

Jack stared at him a moment longer, before relenting and blinking once. When he re-opened his eyes, Beckett had gone, and in his place...

"No..." Jack breathed, eyes wide, "Not... no! Don't... just stop it."

"I'm not sorry. I never was."

Jack swallowed thickly, taking in the ghostly appearance of Elizabeth standing on the other side of his desk. She looked serene, the complete embodiment of female beauty and innocence, dressed in one of her fine regal gowns.

"I should have just stabbed you. It would have been more merciful then letting you live out this pathetic existence."

"Same could be said about you," returned Jack fervently, still keeping a firm hold of the desk, "Your freedom-loving heart left to wait in Port Royal for Prince Charming, hardly the most lenient punishment for your crime."

"And to think, you still did the honourable thing and sacrificed your own agenda for the life of my _husband_," every word was laced with venom, "If you wanted me to suffer as much as you are, perhaps you shouldn't have been such a good man, Jack Sparrow."

Jack's eyes were drawn from her delicate figure to his compass. He roughly picked it up and shoved the lid open, watching the needle move gracefully until it rested in the direction of the vision. His eyes met hers in anger, "My pathetic existence, as ye so call it, is all your fault. You can take your feminine charms to hell, where you belong." He threw his compass at the hallucination, breaking the illusion and causing her image to disappear. His compass bounced off the wall of the cabin and fell to the floor.

It was only then that he realised he'd just thrown one of his most treasured possessions at the wall. He quickly rose from his seat and rushed over to his compass, carefully picking it up. He opened the lid tentatively, hoping that it hadn't been damaged by its collision with the solid wall. The needle seemed unbroken, rocking back and forth until it rested in what was presumably the direction of Elizabeth, in her quaint little country house in Port Royal.

Jack closed the lid and placed it back on his desk, "And thanks for rendering my compass useless, luv."

* * *

**A/N: **Jack quotes from Shakespeare's _Coriolanus_ in this chapter when he says 'Your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.' - I figured that if Jack were to ever quote the bard, he would employ one of his insults :P

Yeah, I didn't really want to include mermaids in this story, so I figured that someone as resourceful as Barbossa would be able to contact a man in possession of the tears so they can bypass Whitecap Bay. The ritual is still the same as the film though, perhaps with some minor additions that I'll reveal later on in the story (psst, don't tell Jack, he's not meant to know the ritual yet!). I'm also ignoring the rule that I think Angelica points out in OST, when she says that mermaid tears don't keep. In this story they do, just to make things easier :)

Aww, poor Jack! I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter should follow soon - please remember to leave a review and let me know what you think! They make my day! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter! I seem to be making a habit of uploading a new chapter every four days, so it'll probably stay like this for now (fortunately I already have nearly 19 chapters written so updating regularly shouldn't be much of a problem at the moment! :)

Reminder that I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters (I only own the Tortuga wench from a couple of chapters ago and perhaps another OC that's introduced this chapter...?) *sigh* I can dream

**Spoiler:** We go back to the past for most of this chapter, and a certain rock legend/pirate captain might even make a brief cameo!

* * *

Fourteen years ago

Hector pushed the door to the tavern open with a satisfied smirk on his face. Jack had compliantly followed the pirate through many twisting back-alleys and side streets on their way to the squalid building they were now stood in front of. Rats roamed free on the deserted streets, this area of Tortuga seemingly unknown to the ordinary populace, and for good reason it seemed given the smell of the place.

Hector had noticed the look of disgust Jack was wearing on his face, "Ye didn't think the most notorious pirate of the Indian Ocean would advertise himself publicly now, did ye?

"I had hoped it would be slightly more civilised," said Jack, wrinkling his nose unpleasantly as he glanced inside the tavern and found it teeming with scantily-dressed young women and ruffians. _So this is the real life of pirates,_ he thought glumly.

"Ye'll need to be gettin' used to it, lad. There ain't a place safer for us than Tortuga and ye'll find allsorts here if ye look in the right places," Hector grinned, walking through the door.

Jack took a deep breath and followed, not entirely prepared for the range of sights and smells he would encounter as he walked past numerous punch-ups, several ladies, presumably of the profession, wandering around and a whole host of drunken men that Jack really hoped weren't his father. But Hector continued walking, scarcely sparing a glance for anyone as he navigated around tables and avoided stray punches as though he'd done this many times before.

He, on the other hand, wasn't quite as lucky, fortunate not to have been knocked off his feet by one particularly intoxicated reveller, who had taken a liking to his beloved hat and swiftly lifted it from Jack's head. He fought to pull the hat off the man, but his strength took him by surprise and when he finally let go, Jack was forced to grab hold of a table to remain upright.

The two of them finally reached the far end of the tavern, where a tall and slender man was sat. He looked as though he originated from the Continent, with dark skin and even darker eyes that were illuminated by the candlelight. He had short black hair, a thin nose and harsh mouth and face, weathered by his sea-faring life. He looked around three-and-twenty years of age, but had the air of a man that had spent most of his life out on the open ocean. He was, like Hector, also wearing a stupidly fancy hat, with three colourful feathers poking out of it.

Hector casually strolled up to him, "I found another recruit. Doesn't look much good fer manual labour, but seems agile enough to be in charge o'the crow's nest."

The man's eyes locked onto Jack's, boring into his with terrifying intensity, "Your name, sailor?" he spoke with a Spanish accent.

"Jack." He so desperately wanted to give his last name but thought better of it, not yet comfortable with revealing information that could lead to anyone working out that he was Teague's son. He wasn't ready for that yet.

The man waited before speaking again, "Just Jack - is that it? No last name?"

"Smith," interjected Hector before Jack had a chance to speak, "Ye might as well call him Smith, fer his parentage is as mysterious as his sudden appearance in this here port this evenin'."Jack forced a smile onto his face as they both looked to the Spaniard expectantly.

The man was clearly sceptical of them both but chose not to comment on it, "Aye, you're welcome aboard then, Smith," he extended his hand to Jack, who was rather surprised at receiving a cordial greeting from a lowlife pirate, but shook it gladly, "Name's Edgardo. Teague's quartermaster, or first mate if you'd prefer," he explained as though to a small child, "I'm in charge whenever the captain's not around."

"I am aware of the way ship hierarchies work, mate," Jack muttered impatiently, "Used to be captain of one, if truth be told."

Edgardo glared at him before picking up the rum bottle on his table, "Then you'll know that the first mate is in charge of crew discipline, including shooting or flogging those that are shirking their duties."

"Aye," said Jack with a smile on his face, "And I know that the captain has the power to overrule any decisions made by the first mate."

"Gaining favour with Teague is not as easy as you might think," the Spaniard put down his rum bottle, eyes still fixed on Jack's, "With notoriety comes a certain level of distrust for others, else you leave them to take advantage of you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Hector glowering at him, "Not if you're smart," Jack challenged, picking up Edgardo's rum bottle and taking a gulp of the liquid, "You can trust someone and at the same time anticipate any self-advantageous actions they might take."

"You look more what I call _loco_ than smart, but I'll take your word for it," replied Edgardo facetiously, looking over to a nearby table where several young women were sat, beckoning him to come over, "Now, if you'll excuse me," he stood up and walked off, noticeably leaving the half-empty bottle of rum on the table.

As soon as he'd disappeared around the corner with the girls in tow, Jack picked the bottle up, pleased that he'd managed to acquire some free alcohol. He looked at Hector, grinning, "Don't need to buy me a drink now, mate."

"What do ye think ye're doing?" Hector hissed angrily, taking a step towards him decisively, "Do ye think ye're so important that ye can insult that man and get away with it?"

"I didn't insult him," denied Jack fervently, "Just didn't appreciate the tone of voice he used to address me. If anything, he was the one being insulting, not me."

Hector rolled his eyes, "Oh apologies, yer highness, if not all of us speaks to ye like members of His Majesty's Navy."

"It was the East India Trading Company, actually," Jack corrected petulantly, but both of them were interrupted when a quiet seemed to descend on the tavern and eyes were drawn towards a figure at the far end of the room.

"Look lively, it's yer daddy come t'say hello," Hector whispered with a snort of derision, as Jack's eyes were drawn to Captain Teague as he entered the tavern.

He was right; Teague had a lot of hair - dreadlocks in fact - emphasised by a magnificently decadent hat, complete with feathers. Kohl marked his eyelids and there were all manner of trinkets and treasures adorned in his hair. Certain memories immediately began to flood back to Jack of his childhood and the few times he'd been in the same place as his father. He didn't look much different, perhaps a few wrinkles the only sign that any time had passed at all.

As Teague approached them, Jack felt increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. He wasn't sure if it was the fear of being recognised, or the echo of the times he'd been sternly told off by him as a child, but Jack wasn't so sure he was ready to go through with this. Would Teague really be happy to see him again? And would he even believe that Jack was his son? He had no evidence, after all, apart from his word, and what pirate would be likely to believe that? As Hector pointed out, he could be an imposter intending to steal Teague's fortune.

"Boy," Jack was abruptly brought out of his reverie by the presence of Teague, his father, stood right in front of him, gesturing to the bottle of rum he still had in his hand. For the second time that day Jack found himself giving away his rum to a stranger, Teague taking the drink from him and swiftly gulping the rest of it down.

Once finished, Teague threw the bottle down and his eyes met Jack's, looking at him with a strange expression on his face, "Not seen ye before."

Looking around, Jack had noticed that Barbossa had completely disappeared from sight. He swallowed nervously before tilting his head slightly, "I'm new. Jack... Smith," he said hastily, smiling at the captain in an attempt to cover up his hesitation.

Teague didn't let on whether or not he noticed Jack's hesitation, "I'm sure ye already know who I am."

"Teague, aye," Jack gave one of his trademark smiles, hoping it would provoke Teague into a less severe facial expression, "Heard great things. Terrible things, really... but good piratin' things," Jack inwardly cursed himself, words really were failing to cooperate with him today, "I was so impressed I just had to come over and see what seafaring life was like on board the _Troubadour_. It really is a remarkable vessel, wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't have made it my ship otherwise," was Teague's abrupt response, pursing his lips, "Time will tell if ye have what it takes to be a permanent addition to me crew." The captain gave Jack one final discerning glance before walking off.

It was only then that Jack let his false smile dissipate, glad to be free of his father's gaze and the temptation to reveal everything to him. He needed to be smart about this: he needed to gain Teague's trust first, before revealing that he was in fact his long-lost son. Even though it hurt him more than he cared to admit to see his biological father regard him with such indifference.

"Did ye tell him?" Jack turned around to find Hector standing next to him again, looking at him with an unsettlingly serious expression on his face.

"Not yet," answered Jack honestly, "If I told him now I doubt he'd believe me. I wouldn't believe me if I told me, being him and not me of course, so neither would he, being him."

There was a pause, Jack consciously avoiding Hector's gaze. Then, "Do ye deliberately make yerself sound that confusing or is it by sheer accident?"

Jack frowned, "It makes sense to me, so why not everyone else?"

...

Present

Jack stood on deck, arms resting on the railings, looking aimlessly out to sea. The _Black Pearl_ had finally left the island of Tortuga behind and huge swathes of open and crystal blue ocean lay in front of her. It was at times like this when Jack felt most at peace, the gentle rocking of the ship and salty spray of the sea grounding him and reminding him what life was about. Freedom. The ability to sail anywhere one wanted, to do whatever one wanted, to _feel_ anything one wanted. And, having been away from the sea for two months, Jack certainly felt as though he should feel that way again.

But he didn't. His mind was a tumult of emotions, and gazing out onto the ocean was the only thing keeping him steady and focused. He almost expected his hallucinations to come crawling out of his mind again, taunting him and tempting him with numberless possibilities to solve his current predicament.

"I told ye once already, I am doing as he asked, and that is all ye can ask of me."

Jack turned his head towards the helm, seeing his mutinously fiendish first mate, with his hands steady on the wheel, conversing with one of the crew. Even though he couldn't see the crewman's face, Jack hadn't remembered seeing him on board before. He was probably just a new deckhand, recruited by Barbossa in the two months spent gallivanting around the Caribbean. But Jack was certainly intrigued by the defensive tone in Barbossa's voice when he addressed him.

Jack strained but couldn't hear the response of the young buccaneer, a large straw hat covering his head so that all Jack could see was the back of the man's shirt, his breeches and boots.

He did however notice Barbossa curse in frustration in reply to what the deckhand said, "If ye think ye'd do a better job, by all means, mutiny and see if ye can do it any better."

Did he really hear that right? Was Barbossa daring this crew lad to mutiny against him? If that wasn't confidence, or rather arrogance, then what the hell was? But, on the other hand, it did mean that mutiny was now a completely justified course of action, given that Barbossa had formally requested for it to happen.

But what was even more interesting was what that crewman had to say. It wasn't easy to unsettle or intimidate Barbossa (Jack had tried in vain for many years but had never been taken even remotely seriously by the man) so for this lowly deckhand to do that was quite an achievement. Although, it did beg the question of whom he really was and what he was doing on board his ship. Not to mention the question of whether the crew lad would mutiny in favour of him or mutiny against both him and Barbossa and take the ship for himself.

_All will be decided when we mutiny against Barbossa. The lad can either join us, or be marooned on an island to argue with the fiend until they either find an escape or shoot each other. _

_Would personally prefer the latter._

The strange crewman appeared to have finished arguing with Barbossa, for at that moment he left the helm and began to descend the stairs. Jack needed to find out this man's motives, so he immediately started to walk over to him. Unfortunately, before he was able to reach the man, he was interrupted by two very irritating and familiar new recruits.

"Captain! Captain Sparrow!" the leaner man called out as the two rushed over to him from below deck, a pointless eye patch covering one of his eyes. Jack reluctantly stopped and turned towards them.

"We feel we have an apology to make to you, captain," the other man said, before adding, "Then we hope we can make amends, as it were."

Jack simply chose to raise an eyebrow at them, still busy figuring out where he'd seen them before. A thought suddenly flashed across his mind: didn't merit an invitation to the fancy to-do. Pride of the King's Navy.

Oh, it was _them._

The thinner man (Murdog, was it?), upon realising that Jack wasn't going to provide a verbal response, spoke again, "We apologise for any such activities that we may have been involved in-"

"Including those that took place under our previous terms of employment," the other (Murray?) interrupted with a firm nod of the head.

Murdog gave his friend an annoyed look, "I was just getting to that bit."

"Well I just made sure we got to it earlier," said Murray decisively, looking to Jack with a roll of the eyes. Jack merely gave a sympathetic smile in response, rather irritated himself that they'd robbed him of the opportunity to corner that mysterious deckhand and work out what was going on.

"But whether we got to it earlier or later would not have mattered providing I actually said it," Murdog replied in exasperation, turning his head back to Jack, "Which I was going to, captain."

Jack was trying not to let his severe boredom show. "But as we said," Murray began, with a sincere and hopeful smile on his face, "We do repent for our actions and are willing to prove our loyalty to you, Mr Sparrow, by supporting you on your quest to rid yourself of Mr Barbossa."

_Mr Barbossa._ Jack fought to suppress a snort. "You can't say that here!" Murdog scolded, reducing his voice to whisper, "You don't know if and when Mr Barbossa is listening!"

Murray looked around the deck sceptically, "I think you'll find Mr Barbossa is too far away to hear us, being all the way over by that wheel." '_And why would he want to hear you?'_ Jack added in his head.

"Unless he has acute hearing," said Murdog.

Murray's eyes widened in apparent realisation of some trivial fact, "Well, I did hear that acute hearing was a side-effect of being brought back from the dead."

"Not forgetting his time as an un-dead degenerate being," Murdog pointed at his friend decidedly, "Even more reason for him to have abnormal auditory functions."

Jack raised his hand to speak, "Murdog, Murray," both Murdog and Murray turned to look at him with strange expressions on their faces, "I am really not the person to be troubling with such notions, having spent but a brief, albeit consequential, time as an un-dead degenerate meself. I would therefore pass on yer query to two men who've much experience in the field of un-deadness."

"Actually, I think you'll find it is Mullro-"

Jack silenced him with a wave of his hand, "No need to thank me. Just ask around for the Homunculus and his friend with the wooden-eye-turned-eye-patch, and you'll most surely find them," he shot them both a trademark smile, "They could even be used as your test subjects as you attempt to prove your meaningless hypothesis. I willingly give my consent as captain for any lethal or noxious chemicals to be administered to them as part of your investigations," he added cheerfully as an afterthought, "In fact, I actively endorse it."

"But-"

Another wave of the hand, "The age of science is upon us, gentlemen, and I would probably, though most likely not, despair should you miss it." Jack then took that as his cue to walk off, rather miffed that two idiots had once again interrupted his precious time, time that could be spent planning for whatever _Mr Barbossa_ was going to do next.

...

Fourteen years ago

Hector Barbossa was steadily losing his patience. He and Jack _Smith_ had been aboard the _Troubadour_ for two days now, on a venture to seek treasure off the coast of India, and not once had Jack gone anywhere near Teague's cabin to reveal himself as his long lost son.

"_I'm not ready yet, mate. It's not the opportune moment."_

That was his response the last time Hector tried asking a few hours ago. Hector cursed as he stared across from his position scrubbing the deck to see Jack lounging casually on a barrel with a bunch of other crewmembers, engaging in a lively game of cards and shirking his duties. When Edgardo found out, there'd be trouble. Of course, no more trouble than Jack had already put himself in, having already positioned himself at odds with Teague's first mate and having threatened Hector's entire plan.

Hector had completely underestimated the lad's intelligence. He wasn't like most other pirate riffraff, who could be manipulated easily into doing whatever Hector wanted. He was certainly educated, and presumably his time in the East India Trading Company had taught him many valuable things, ranging from navigation to general people skills. It certainly hadn't taken him long to make friends with the majority of the crew, barring Edgardo of course.

In truth, the longer he observed the man, the more he could see flashes of Teague in him: from those occasional moments of gumption to his penchant for being honest, Jack definitely had inherited many characteristics that had defined his father's pirating career.

Unfortunately, that meant that Hector's task had become more difficult. He had spent so many months before Jack's sudden appearance trying to obtain pirate lordship of the Brethren Court and that had led him to Teague in the first place. He was one of the nine pirate lords, and if Hector was able to gain favour with the pirate captain, there was a likelihood that, after his death, the title would be passed on to him.

Consequently, Hector had signed up for Teague's crew and spent many months trying to impress the captain, however it had turned out to be in vain since Teague barely spoke to any of his crew apart from Edgardo. He spent most of his days shut away in his cabin, only coming on deck when the _Troubadour_ was attacking an enemy ship or making port.

But the addition of Jack changed everything. Providing the lad revealed himself to Teague, he was in a prime position to gain favour with the captain and encourage him to relinquish his pirate title - after all, what better way to start your son's pirating career than to give the gift of pirate lordship? Hector was confident that Teague was just the kind of benevolent soul that would be tempted to do that.

And with only Jack then standing in his way of becoming pirate lord, Hector would easily be able to organise an 'unfortunate accident' that left the poor lad dead and led to the Brethren Court being one member short. Hector would then fabricate the rest, claiming that Jack left the title to him on his deathbed, and he would finally gain the nobility rank that he had desired for so long. After that, captaincy would be handed to him on a silver platter and there would be pirates fighting to be a part of his crew. He would be famed the world over.

Captain Barbossa, pirate lord and the most feared scallywag to ever sail the high seas. It was almost in his grasp.

"Back to your station, sailor!" Hector's contemplation was broken by the furious voice of Edgardo, who had appeared to have finally noticed the lax in productivity of the crew and was chastising the crewman stationed at the helm. His eyes then scanned the deck until they rested on Jack and the other crewmembers gathered at the far end, near to the railing.

Jack and the crewmembers that had joined him in his game of cards jumped at the voice and hurriedly began to hide the evidence that proved they were slacking, with Hector noticing Jack slyly stashing the playing cards in his hat before Edgardo had managed to storm over to them, shouting words in Spanish that Hector presumed to be profanities.

"What is the meaning of this?" barked the first mate as he came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword and the other on his pistol.

The crewmembers exchanged anxious looks towards one another before their eyes all rested on Jack, knowing him to be the only one bold enough to stand up to Edgardo. Jack looked up to the Spaniard with an unashamed smile on his face, "Care to join us, mate? We were just about to start if you want me to deal you a hand." Hector knew that was a lie, given that they'd been playing for the last half hour but, nevertheless, Jack lifted his hat and reached for the cards, waving them in front of Edgardo to illustrate his point.

Anger boiled over on Edgardo's face, "You should be aware that gambling is forbidden on board this vessel, Smith," his intense gaze moved over the rest of the crew, "And if not, then somebody should have informed you thus."

"Who said we were gambling?" asked Jack innocently, creating a fan using the deck of cards, "Or rather, intending to gamble? Ever heard of the game Reversis, señor?"

"Of course I have," Edgardo reached over and grabbed Jack's cards, before walking over to the railing, ripping several of them up and throwing them overboard.

Jack rose from his barrel and rushed over to the railing, looking over at what Hector assumed to be the playing cards floating on the water. He then turned back to face Edgardo, his black hair blowing in the wind and a falsely hurt expression on his face, "I might have to lodge a complaint with the captain for theft," he glanced over the side of the railing again, "and vandalism of property. Those cards were my grandmother's, ye see, and-"

Jack was cut off as Edgardo chose that moment to draw his sword and point it at his chest. Hector couldn't really blame him given that Jack was deliberately trying to be aggravating - he probably would have done the same himself. The rest of the crew immediately backed off and returned to their stations, leaving Jack and Edgardo alone, the former unarmed. Jack stared at the sword and Hector could see the fear in his eyes, "Bad manners to point a sword at an unarmed man, Edgardo."

Hector was amused at Jack's illusions that all pirates would act as honourably as men under East India Trading Company employ - he certainly had a lot to learn in that regard. If he continued to believe in all of that noble nonsense Hector suspected that it would soon cause him problems. Though, at least it did reveal a weakness that Hector was keen to exploit should the need arise.

Teague's first mate smirked at him, "You're forgetting that I'm a pirate, so I don't need manners." Jack shifted uncomfortably on the spot and Hector saw his eyes scanning the area frantically, seemingly searching for some way out of his predicament. He was tempted to go over and intervene, since if Jack died now his whole plan would be ruined, but conversely he also knew that his intervention would probably only make the situation worse. Hector had no choice but to observe and hope that Edgardo would think better than to run Jack through with his sword.

Hector could sense Edgardo's smugness that he'd finally managed to render Jack speechless. He spoke again, "Fortunately for you, _mocoso_, I'll allow you to talk with the captain and express your displeasure at his rules yourself," he prodded the sword gently into Jack's chest to encourage him to move in the direction of Teague's cabin.

"As a matter of fact," Hector inwardly rolled his eyes as Jack began to protest, "I take it back. I was wrong. There is absolutely no reason for me to lodge a complaint of any kind. I will willingly accept that our quarrel was a misunderstanding that Teague need not bother resolving."

"Too late for that," Edgardo sneered, and Hector was relieved to see two brutish crewmen grab Jack roughly by the shoulders and lead him below deck.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed it! Just for reference, in case you didn't know, Reversis was a card game played in Spain in the 1700s and is generally considered a precursor to the modern _Hearts_ game (how Jack knows this will always be considered a mystery, even to me haha). As for Edgardo's Spanish, according to an internet translator (yep, Spanish is not a language I'm particularly familiar with, so correct me if I'm wrong!) 'loco' means crazy while 'mocoso' translates as 'brat'.

Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! They always give me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside! :D Till next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Next chapter! Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews, they really do make my day and encourage me to keep writing. And I'm glad you're excited about the Sparrabethness (River), I am too! Although it will still be a few more chapters until they finally meet up with each other and get to resolve some... issues (mainly whelpish and chaining wrists to masts in nature, unfortunately).

Reminder that I do not own POTC, no matter how much I dream.

**Spoiler:** Jack's got 99 problems, and his dad appears to be one of them (not sure what the other 98 are though, probably something to do with the lack of rum).

* * *

Fourteen years ago

Jack was really not looking forward to this confrontation. He had purposely been avoiding Teague for the past two days, though he couldn't decide whether it was due to fear of the inevitable or worry that he wouldn't be believed. Did he really want this man, this technical _stranger_ to him, knowing who he really was? Not to mention that Jack didn't know the man well enough to determine how he would react. Would he be happy? Relieved? Angry? He was a pirate, so all bets were off the table.

Yet, telling Teague who he really was would be the only way of getting himself out of this situation and avoiding a stern punishment for breaking the rules. As the two crewmen (members of a minority on board that didn't like him) led him to the captain's quarters, Jack stole a glance over at Edgardo, who followed behind, his face a veil of bitter anger.

What was that man's problem? And why was he being singled out? Because he didn't take kindly to a crewmember with a spine, that's why.

_Well sorry, mate, but I'm not going to stand by while you speak to me like a piece of pirate dirt._

At that moment, a sharp jolt of pain advanced up his arm as one of the brutes grabbed the part of his arm marked with the brand.

_Perhaps I am a piece of pirate dirt after all._

Jack hissed at the discomfort but the two pirates didn't appear to notice (or didn't care). They continued through a corridor until they reached the far cabin, where they came to a stop. Edgardo stepped forward and, sending a livid stare in Jack's direction, knocked on Teague's door.

A grunt from the other side of the door appeared to signal that Edgardo could enter, so he threw open the door and the two crewmen marched Jack into his cabin. They shoved him into the centre of the room before releasing their hold and leaving him alone with Edgardo and Teague.

There was a sinister sense of familiarity about this circumstance. Jack almost felt as though he'd been here before.

"_You have openly defied the Company, Sparrow, and, for that, you deserve the punishment that best fits such an act of betrayal."_

"_I don't regret any of my actions. You failed to mention that I would be transporting people, not cargo, so I think you'll find that you brought this on yourself."_

"_Your job is to do as you are asked. Your moral conscience is of no concern to me."_

"_Then it appears we shall both get what we wish, as I no longer wish to work for such a debauched organisation."_

"_You are mistaken, Jack. You won't be working anywhere, here or otherwise. Mr Mercer, fetch me the brand."_

Jack looked over at Teague, who was sat at his desk, absorbed in studying one of his charts. Edgardo took a few steps forward, until he was standing a few inches away from Jack. He would have tried making a break for it, except there wasn't anywhere to run to - unless he felt like jumping overboard and spending hours swimming towards the nearest island.

Edgardo spoke up, "Captain, I believe this miscreant wishes to challenge you on the strict rules enforced on your vessel."

Teague looked up from his desk, his eyes first resting on Jack before moving to Edgardo. A moment passed before he finally offered a response, "I was under the impression that you were in charge of discipline, Edgardo. Why waste my time with this boy?"

It seemed Teague didn't like this Edgardo fellow much either. Seems they had something in common after all, Jack noted with a speck of amusement. Though it did beg the question of why Edgardo was first mate - surely that position normally went to the most trusted crewmember on the ship? Or did pirates do things differently?

Edgardo didn't take lightly to Teague's jibe, raising his head and pursing his lips, "He outwardly undermined my authority in front of the rest of the crew, so I believe he needs to be made an example of," Teague's face remained completely unreadable, but Jack met his eyes and could see... was it curiosity? It was as if he was stripping away Jack's barriers until there was nothing but his soul left.

It made Jack feel strangely vulnerable. And he hated it.

"Aye," Teague drummed his fingers on his desk thoughtfully, "Leave him with me. I'll knock some sense into him."

Edgardo nodded and left the room. Jack and Teague were left alone, an unpleasant atmosphere descending on the cabin.

"_I imagine your father would be proud to see you here, Jack, finally embracing your parentage."_

"_Hardly embracing."_

"_Now, now, that's not the right attitude to have. You were always a pirate, all this mark does is make it official in the eyes of the law."_

Looking over at Teague, Jack was surprised to see him return to studying his charts, acting as if he wasn't even in the room. It was a bit rude, to say the least.

Jack frowned. Was he going to punish him or not? Or was this his punishment, to remain silent for an indeterminate length of time until Teague saw fit to permit him to speak?

If it was, then that was the most stupid punishment he'd ever heard of - not least because he was incapable of remaining quiet for too long.

"So," Jack began casually, waiting expectantly for Teague to raise his head and meet his eyes again. He didn't. Jack wrinkled his forehead in bafflement and continued, "How are ye going to punish me then? Pistol to the head? Run me through with a sword?" he raised his hand to his neck and cupped it with a pained expression on his face, "Not any medieval methods of punishment, I hope."

That gained his attention, as he finally took his eyes off his charts and looked straight at him, "Do ye think me stupid, boy?"

"No..." Jack began uncertainly, finally tearing his own eyes off Teague and beginning to look around his room, "I was just joking. I didn't really mean to suggest that you might behead me, I was just trying to lighten the..."

Jack stopped as Teague rose from his chair, slightly taken aback by the sudden movement of a man so content to stay still. Teague narrowed his eyes at him, "Did ye really think I wouldn't guess?"

Jack swallowed, still unsure of where this conversation was heading, "Would it help if I vowed to never question your absurd rules again?"

_Oh, bugger, didn't meant to use the word absurd._

However, the word appeared to have the opposite effect, for instead of making him angry, Jack could have sworn he saw a small smile flit briefly across Teague's face.

Now he was really confused. He felt as though they were having two separate conversations.

"You're Jack Sparrow."

Oh. He wasn't expecting _that_.

Jack stared blankly at Teague for a moment, trying to determine if he knew that Jack Sparrow was actually his son, because the manner in which he said his name didn't fill him with much confidence.

When it was clear that he wasn't in a hurry to speak again, Jack forced himself to say something, "Aye. And you're Captain Edward Teague. May I inquire as to the point of yer announcement pertaining to me namesake?"

"There's only one reason ye'd be here," said Teague firmly, walking up to him. Jack resisted the urge to take a step back as Teague approached and grabbed him tightly by his right wrist. He pulled up the sleeve of his coat and shirt to reveal the 'P' brand, red and inflamed from the crewman's tough grip.

Upon seeing the mark, Teague released Jack's wrist from his grip and staggered back to his seat, his face still incomprehensible. Jack's other hand unconsciously moved to his coat sleeve, covering up the brand. He stared at Teague patiently, expecting some kind of response to the revelation that his son was now an official outlaw.

"What was yer crime?" he finally asked in a low voice.

"Not a crime per say, more an injustice," Jack clarified.

An amused expression passed over Teague's face, "An' what, ye came here looking for pity?"

"Not sure what I came here for, to be honest," muttered Jack in an irritated tone of voice, "Given that you've yet to even mention anything relating to me being your son."

"Revenge, then," Teague said, ignoring him, "Ye want to take your anger out on the man that ruined yer life."

Jack folded his arms, "And if that were true, can you really blame me for feeling that way?"

Teague leaned back in his chair, "Take it from me, it won't end well, Jackie," Jack recoiled at his use of a nickname, "Not without a ship, anyway."

"I could always use yours," suggested Jack with deliberate flippancy to his tone, hoping that if he acted relaxed enough he may be able to gleam some more information from Teague. For starters, some sentimental admittance of relief that his son was not dead would suffice. Though, Jack was hardly surprised that Teague wasn't the sentimental type (pirate, so obviously not).

"What happened to the _Wench_?" Teague asked suddenly, catching Jack off-guard.

Jack regarded Teague suspiciously. How did he know about his ship? He was just a merchant sailor, nobody of any real importance. What use would a pirate such as him have for that knowledge? All he did was transport cargo for the East India Trading Company - he wasn't directly involved in the hunt for pirates.

Unless Teague had purposely been spying on him. But why the hell would he want to do that for?

"Burnt to a cinder, resting at the bottom of the ocean just off the coast of Africa," Jack answered bitterly, the loss of his ship still a sensitive subject, "Not much use in a one-on-one battle against Beckett, I'd wager."

"Neither would it be much use if ye somehow persuaded Davy Jones to raise it from the depths for you," Teague replied bluntly, leading Jack to wonder if what he said was really possible, if Davy Jones actually existed and was not just a figure from the myths and legends he was told as a child. If he could bring his ship back, he most certainly would. He loved that ship. It was much better than the _Troubadour_.

"So what fatherly advice would you impart to me then?" Jack asked, surprising himself with the amount of coldness in his voice, "That is, of course, providing you actually consider me yer son."

Teague seemed to pick up on his hostility and fixed him with a steely glare, "If ye weren't my son, I would've had ye shot already for yer impudence, boy."

Jack supposed that was all he could ask for from a father that was a notorious pirate. He was honestly beginning to wonder why he even bothered coming here. Perhaps he should have just tried to make it as a pirate on his own. After a moment of silence between the pair, Jack raised his eyebrows at Teague, daring him to continue.

"I'd suggest ye stop moping about what's passed and instead live for the present, not fearing the future," Teague huffed, "That's all ye can do now ye're one of us."

"Fine words," said Jack resentfully, "But how does this life advice relate to my position on yer boat?"

"Do whatever ye want. Stay on board, throw yerself off board, makes no difference," Teague responded, speaking in a deliberately casual tone of voice, "Just don't get yerself caught breaking me rules, or else I may have to carry out me threat."

A sceptical smile flitted across Jack's face, "Can't promise anything with certain crewmembers around." He waited for a moment to see if Teague was going to offer anymore conversation but instead he simply turned his attention back to his charts, deeply engrossed in whatever they had to say.

Jack took that as his cue to leave and headed towards the door but as he put his hand on the handle, Teague spoke again, "Don't be ashamed of who ye are, Jackie. Ye can be a pirate _and_ be a much better man than half those Company pigs."

Jack turned around, surprised by the honesty and sincerity in Teague's voice. He'd hardly thought the man capable of displaying any kind of fatherly compassion given the harshness with which he had previously been addressing him, but it seemed he had been mistaken. Rather than replying, Jack regarded him a moment longer before opening the door and walking out.

He'd only just closed Teague's cabin door before someone seized him from behind, shoving him towards the cabin wall. His back hit the wall with a painful thud and, once his mind had finally caught up with the sudden turn in events, he could sense the sharp, cold edge of a sword digging into his neck. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark corridor of the ship, with the only source of light coming from a nearby porthole and the rays of light only stretching as far as his feet. Looking up from the floor, he at once took in the appearance of Edgardo, controlled anger swirling in his dark eyes.

"What are you planning?" he asked levelly, his voice at odds with the inferno raging across his harsh features.

Jack met his eyes briefly before his attention was drawn downwards once again, noticing that, rather than being on his head (where it should be), his hat was lying on the floor, presumably having fallen off due to the force with which he'd been grabbed by Edgardo.

Jack looked at it longingly, "Don't suppose you could grab my hat for me, could ye mate?" he said with a nervous smile, which soon dissipated when it was returned with a cold glare from Teague's first mate.

"Do you think me stupid, is that it? Do you not think me experienced enough with your kind to not understand what's going on here?"

Why did everyone seem to think that he thought everyone stupid? That was not the case at all. Edgardo wasn't stupid. He was just a nuisance. And what did he mean by 'his kind', anyway? They were both pirates, surely that made them kindred... of a sort.

Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought that he and this waste of space had something in common, "For the second time today I find myself utterly bewildered by people's speech patterns. Why can't ye all be as coherent as I am?"

Edgardo's embittered facial expression informed Jack that he was not making the situation any better. Not only that, but the way Teague's first mate dug the sword even further into his neckline also hinted that things weren't going well.

"Shall I make this simple for you, so that you can understand what I am saying?" said Edgardo in condescension, speaking to Jack as if he had suddenly regressed into an eight-year old boy.

Jack figured he should at least humour the man, given that his life was technically at stake, "It would certainly help, mate."

The first mate's mouth curled into a smirk, "I have you figured out, you filthy pretender. I heard every word," Jack let out an involuntary shudder, "You seek to win Teague's trust so that you can mutiny an' take his ship for yourself, claiming it as your birthright. I wouldn't be surprised if you were after his title too," Edgardo leaned in closer to Jack, his breath nauseating, "Well, rest assured, _mocoso_, that I won't let that happen."

"Too right you won't, mate," Jack answered coolly, attempting with his free hand (the other pinned to the wall by Edgardo's arm) to try and grab one of the pistols in Edgardo's belt, "Since I'm not even planning anything that you can purposely not let happen."

"Forgive me if I don't believe that," Edgardo pressed his sword further into Jack's neck, beginning to draw blood.

Jack's breathing was beginning to increase, panic rising in his chest, but he was determined not to let it show, "Then why don't you just kill me now?"

"Because it would incur the captain's wrath and that is a risk I am not prepared to take yet," said Edgardo, "So I warn you, Jack _Sparrow_," he spat Jack's name with venom, "That I will uncover the truth and reveal your true intentions."

"There won't be much to reveal," Jack pointed out helpfully, "Nothing at all really."

"Do you ever stop talking?!" shouted the first mate, his face only a few inches from Jack's.

All of a sudden, Edgardo released the pressure of the sword on Jack's throat and drew back slightly, inadvertently giving him more room for movement. Jack saw this as his opportunity and moved his hands nearer to his head, before he seized hold of the hilt of Edgardo's sword and tried to push the blade away from his neck. The two fought over the sword for a moment before Jack raised his leg and managed to kick Edgardo in the stomach, sending him backwards and causing him to release his grip on the sword. Edgardo hit the floor of the deck and Jack took a step forward, pointing the sword at him with a smug expression on his face.

Jack could see Edgardo eying him with a mixture of hatred and panic. "You see," he began calculatedly, the sword poking into Edgardo's chest, "I could kill you right now and be done with it, ridding the world of another lowlife nuisance pirate. Unfortunately, you are unarmed," he bent to pick up his hat and placed it on his head, "and consequently that would be deemed coldblooded murder. So, I give ye fair warning," he straightened up his hat with his free hand, "I will leave you alone, and you will leave me alone, and if you do not leave me alone I will run ye through with my brand new sword, savvy?"

He lifted the sword from Edgardo's chest, before turning around and walking off, heading back above deck. However, before he got there, he suddenly felt the handle of what he suspected was a pistol colliding into the side of his head, knocking him over and into inescapable blackness.

...

Present

"So, Jack, is everythin' settled?" Gibbs asked as Jack strode into the captain's quarters, the majority of his crew waiting patiently for him to offer a concrete plan of their proposed mutiny. Night had fallen, one day into their journey to Shipwreck Cove, and Gibbs was certain that this was the most opportune moment to take full control of the _Pearl_.

Jack's eyes widened as he perceived the majority of his crew standing in his cabin, their grimy fingers all over his charts and belongings. It did please him to know that he had support from his crew, despite nearly reeling at the pungent smell of sweat and rum that had overtaken his room. _It'll take weeks to clear out this stench, especially with there being no more cross-breeze, thank ye Mr Barbossa._

It was only then that Jack noticed Gibbs looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response. "Aye, I'm about to take over the helm from the mutinous fiend and, once I do, I want ye all to begin yer mutiny."

Murmurs of agreement ran through the crew. "And how are we to mutiny, captain?" said Gibbs.

Jack shot him a strange look, "Mutiny as mutineers would mutiny, Mr Gibbs," his gaze moved over the rest of the crew, working out who was absent. Both Pintel and Ragetti were not present, along with a few other crewmembers, including the mysterious sailor who had engaged in an argument with Barbossa earlier that day. Curious, but not interesting enough to warrant his immediate attention.

Taking in Gibbs' confused expression, Jack sighed, "Lots of shouting and threats of violence. Ambush Barbossa's cabin, take his weapons and drag him on deck in the most demeaning way possible. I'll then tell him how our whole acquaintance was a lie in order to take what is most precious to him, and I'll inform him that his reluctance to resort to violence is an undesirable quality amongst pirates and warrants the mutiny..." he stopped, realising that what he'd said bore a close resemblance to what happened eleven years ago. Gibbs and the rest of the crew appeared to have noticed the intensity and bitterness in his voice and were staring at him in confusion at his bizarre instructions.

Gibbs spoke up, one of the few crew members who understood where Jack's outburst had come from, "Wouldn't it be easier to just throw him in the brig, captain?"

"That too," Jack announced hastily, trying to cover up his outburst, "And when we see land, we'll unceremoniously drop him off."

"But what of the fountain, captain?" asked Marty.

"The quest will be put on hold," answered Jack anxiously, his mind working on a suitable alternative to seeking immortality that would placate his crew, "And we will at once return to our scoundrel ways, plunderin' and lootin' and generally bein' ne'er do well cads. What say you?"

"Aye!" Gibbs exclaimed earnestly, followed by other cries of agreement from the rest of the crew.

Jack grinned, immensely relieved that he had the support of his crew. Or at least from the majority of the crew, "The fiend is currently at the helm. I'll take over his duties an' let him retire to his cabin. Then the rest is up to you, gentlemen."

He took one final look over his crew before leaving his quarters and returning to the main deck, finally settled on his plan. As he walked up the stairs leading to the helm, he noticed Barbossa gazing intently out onto the open ocean, illuminated by the full moon, unaware of Jack approaching.

"One would be forgiven for thinking ye'd never seen it before, mate," said Jack in amusement, leaning on the railing.

Jack inwardly rolled his eyes when Barbossa turned to look at him with one of his annoyingly serious and profound expressions on his face. It was going to be more difficult than he thought to get this man to retire to his cabin.

Barbossa sighed, "Even after all these years it never ceases in its majesty, never fails to amaze."

Jack looked at him strangely, "Are you the one what's been drinking away me supplies of rum by any chance?"

"Ye think there'd be nothin' left to see, the amount of years me an' you have spent out here now. Ye think the thrill would've disappeared. But it ain't."

_Aye, he's drunk alright. _Jack racked his brain for a way of getting Barbossa off the helm and safely in his cabin. As much as he hoped that Barbossa's intoxicated state would work in their favour during the mutiny, he had known the man to display some impressive reflexes while inebriated.

"We're not that old, Barbossa," Jack took a few steps towards the helm, "At least I'm not, anyway. And besides," he lazily rested his hand on Barbossa's shoulder, "We'll soon have the youthful waters of the fountain in our grasp and can spend an entire eternity contemplating her wonders," he gestured wildly towards the ocean, "Now as captain I suggest ye retire to yer cabin and let me take over," he grabbed one of the spokes possessively, "It's my watch."

Barbossa suddenly fixed Jack with a deadly serious glare, leading him to remove his other hand sheepishly from the man's shoulder "One would be forgiven fer thinkin' ye be wantin' me off me ship."

_Bugger. _"Of course not!" Jack was quick to plaster an innocent smile across his face, "I delight in yer company on board me ship."

Their stare-off continued for a few tense moments before Barbossa suddenly broke into laughter, which Jack quickly sought to imitate.

Barbossa firmly put his hand on Jack's shoulder, one hand still on the left-hand spokes, his eyes still joking, "Even if ye did entertain thoughts of mutiny, ye wouldn't have the sense to carry it through. It'd impede yer honour."

Jack continued his false laugh, hoping his eyes didn't betray his enmity towards the man, "Yer capability for hilarity is astounding, mate. Remind me to sign ye up for the travelling circus next time we make port," he edged closer to Barbossa in an attempt to grab the other side of the wheel and take control of his ship, reminding him of the time they fought over it.

His former first-mate then appeared to notice what Jack was doing and let go of the spokes, causing the wheel to suddenly spin and the ship to jerk to the side, nearly sending Jack tumbling to the floor. Jack sent an irritated glance towards Barbossa's smug face and grabbed the spokes, preventing the ship from steering too far off course.

"She's all yers, captain," Barbossa said with a sneer, before descending the stairs and disappearing from sight.

Jack relaxed his shoulders and sighed. It felt good to be back in control of his ship. It had been two months since he'd last held the spokes and properly captained the _Pearl_. It was as though a huge weight had been instantly lifted from his shoulders. It was while at the helm that Jack felt the full force of the freedom and that the life of a pirate offered. He wouldn't trade this lifestyle for anything; no safety or security could possibly substitute the thrill of adventure.

He'd not felt like this for a long time, even before Barbossa made off with his ship for the second time, the lingering threat of the locker, of the Beastie, of losing his ship, of death or forced servitude at the hands of Jones or Beckett weighing heavily on him from the moment Bootstrap paid him that visit so many months ago.

Jack's reverie was abruptly broken when he heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. He shifted his gaze from the ocean and saw Barbossa standing next to him, looking completely sober. _Why isn't he in his bloody cabin?_

This time Jack couldn't mask his annoyance, "Would you prefer me to speak in code to ensure ye understand what I'm saying? It's my watch. Go to bed. Not difficult to understand, aye?"

"And if ye were actually takin' sufficient notice of the landscape during yer watch, I wouldn't need to inform ye that there's somethin' up ahead worthy of yer notice," replied Barbossa, and the severity in his voice suggested that he wasn't lying.

Jack stared at his former first-mate before looking out to the horizon. True enough, in the distance, on the starboard side of the bow, there was a strange expanse of ocean bubbling away. Jack had seen it many a time, a typical sign that not long ago there had been a ship there. A ship that had recently sunk.

Barbossa immediately drew out his spyglass and began to survey the scene, while Jack, taking one hand off the spokes, scanned around the horizon to determine if there were any enemy ships nearby. There was nothing, just a huge expanse of ocean and no visible land in any direction. Whatever had caused the ship to submerge wasn't cannon-fire, and even if the attacking ship had disappeared in time Jack or Barbossa surely would have heard them firing at one another.

Unless the ship had sunk itself. But, what kind of imbecile would blow a hole in their own ship? Jack grimaced, remembering the time he (technically his crew of eunuchs and tempestuous young women) attacked the _Black Pearl_ with the_ Interceptor_.

That was completely different. And utterly irrelevant to his current circumstance. Why the hell was the thought even in his head anyway? Stupid governors' daughters and eunuchs, interfering in his usually clear train of thought...

_Buggerbuggerbugger._

Jack's eyes widened, perceiving the patch of bubbling sea to be moving nearer to them.

"Could just be a coral reef," Barbossa suggested, not yet noticing the alarmed expression on his fellow captain's face.

"Coral reefs don't usually move," Jack swallowed, and at that moment there was a massive barrage of noise as the _Flying Dutchman_ broke through the surface, emerging from underwater and heading straight towards them.

"Turner," Barbossa spat, shutting his spyglass angrily and turning to Jack, "What could be so important as to bring him here now?"

"Something very not good, no doubt," answered Jack anxiously, all thoughts of mutiny cast to the back of his mind.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed it! Yep, potential whelp-alert for next chapter! What does Will want with Jack? Why is Edgardo such a nuisance? And when will Jack hurry up and mutiny against Barbossa? All (or maybe just some) will be revealed next chapter, which should be up in a few days time!

Please don't forget to drop me a review and let me know what you think! It's always such a delight to hear what you guys think of my story! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** New chapter! Thank you so much for all of the reviews, favourites and follows for this story - receiving an email alert telling me that somebody is enjoying this story really lifts my mood and makes this all worthwhile! :)

Reminder that I am disinclined to acquiesce ownership of POTC (means no).

**Spoiler:** Warning for potential character death in this chapter - and some other angsty stuff. But on the upside, there might be a teensy _hint_ of Sparrabeth in this chapter as a reward for sticking with the first five J/E-less chapters! I promise they will finally meet very soon, and I am committed to prompt updating until that happens!

Also keep a look out for a J/E one shot that I'll be uploading either today or tomorrow!

* * *

Present

"I thought I'd seen the last of that bloody ship," Jack muttered to no-one in particular as he descended the stairs, about to order his crew to abandon their mutinous intentions and join him on deck to assist in this... _situation_.

Why now? Why did the whelp always choose the most inopportune moment to appear? A few more hours and Barbossa would have been safely dispatched, either in the brig, underwater or on an island. Then Jack would be delighted (_maybe not the right word..._) to welcome Will on board his ship for rum, tea, scones, or whatever it was the crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ preferred eating.

But, no, dear William would not make it that easy. He must appear now, of all times.

What the hell was he doing here anyway? Shouldn't he be engaged in other-worldly pursuits, ferrying souls to the afterlife like an obedient servant of the goddess Calypso should?

Unless he'd already given up on such fancies.

_Aye, because a face full of tentacles would be sure to win over his dearly beloved in ten years time._

There must be a reason for his unexpected appearance. He and Will weren't exactly _friends_. Last time they'd been on the same ship Will had attempted mutiny, and last time they'd had a proper conversation Jack tricked him into falling overboard. No, they definitely weren't friends. Stupid whelp.

What were they then? Associates, willing to work together only if it resulted in a mutually beneficial outcome? Pirates, prepared to deceive each other if it meant surviving longer than the other? Yet there was no mutually beneficial outcome or survival to consider this time. There was no heart, no Jones, no Beckett... nothing that the two held remotely in common...

_Miss Swann._

It was the only logical explanation, given that the last two times he'd sought Jack out was to aid in the rescue of his bonny lass since he was incapable of doing it himself. But he was immortal now, so surely that meant he was able to save her from whatever danger she'd put herself in. Why he needed the help of a self-serving pirate to do that was anybody's guess.

Well, he was not going to get himself killed over some stupid foolhardy governor's daughter turned Pirate King. Will could just bugger off back to the land of the dead and stay there. He wasn't interested. He had a mutinous first mate to deal with and the thirst for immortality to quench.

...

Will walked along the starboard side of the ship, towards the bow, where he would be able to get a clearer view of the _Black Pearl_, sailing towards them, her black sails making it difficult to see her with only the moonlight to guide them. He pulled out his spyglass and held it up to his eye, immediately fixing upon the form of Barbossa, stood resolutely at the helm, eyes grimly fixed in his direction.

Doubt began to creep in to Will's mind. Perhaps he should never have come. Perhaps Jack wasn't even on board his ship - Barbossa had commandeered it from him in the past so there was no reason why he hadn't done so again. It wasn't as though great strides had been made in their relationship which led to them trusting one another again - they had reluctantly allied during the war against Beckett only because the outcome of the battle mutually affected them (even though Jack seemed hell-bent on exploiting the war for his own ends without a thought given to anyone else).

Perhaps this whole journey had been a waste of time. If Jack wasn't here then there was no point in him being here either.

Will removed the spyglass from his eye, the _Flying Dutchman_ having sailed close enough to the _Black Pearl_ for its inhabitants to become visible, and at once his attention was drawn to a familiar figure emerging from below deck, dreadlocks, bandana and sash flapping in the keen night breeze. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and instructed his crew to anchor close to the Pearl so that he could board the ship.

As the preparations were made by his crew, Will rested his hands on the railing in an attempt to catch Jack's attention. The captain, however, appeared to have other ideas and had deliberately disappeared into his cabin, so when Will finally swung across to his ship it was Barbossa that greeted him, surrounded by the majority of his crew, including Gibbs and several other men that Will had worked and lived alongside on past adventures. He gave Gibbs a small smile whilst nodding towards the others.

"Captain Turner, to what do I owe the pleasure of yer company on board me ship?" he said graciously with a sickening smile on his yellowed face.

Will stood up straighter, realising that he no longer had reason to be fearful of the man, he was now a pirate captain in his own right - and an immortal one too. If anyone had reason to worry, it was them. He took a few determined steps forward, having spent the last two months, amongst other things, learning how best to act assertively and effectively when negotiating with other captains, "I come seeking Jack Sparrow. I take it he is on board this vessel?"

Will noticed amusement in Barbossa's voice as he replied, though whether it was directed towards his assured countenance or his mention of Jack's name he couldn't be sure, "Aye, much to my never-ending chagrin."

"Where is he?" Will asked, despite already knowing that Jack was most likely locked up in his cabin, trying to avoid him.

"Ah! Captain Turner!" Will and Barbossa suddenly turned around to find Jack standing by the stairs, one hand resting on his pistol and the other leaning on a rope securing the mast.

Upon noticing everyone's attention was centred on him, Jack slowly sauntered over to them, one of his trademark grins plastered to his face, "No tentacles, I see. Must be doing yer job properly, eh? You appeared to have taken a wrong turn, though, if ye came here expecting to find dead souls in need of ferrying." He came to a halt a few paces in front of Will and pointed to his chest, "You see, I'm not dead," he then pointed towards Gibbs and the rest of the crew, "They're not dead," and finally he waved his hand in Barbossa's direction with a grimace, "And no matter how hard I try, _he_ won't stay dead. So there's really no reason for you to be here at all."

"Jack, I do need to talk to you," Will noticed that Jack was deliberately averting his eyes from him, scanning the _Flying Dutchman _as though he expected Davy Jones to appear at any moment, "And I suggest we do so somewhere more solitary."

"Alright," Jack said begrudgingly, spinning on his heel and striding towards his cabin.

Will made to follow him but before he reached Jack's cabin, Barbossa stood in front of him to block his way, "I trust yer little tête-à-tête won't take Jack away from his quest or duties as captain," he said with warning in his voice.

"You're content to call him captain now?" Will asked, partly in derision, partly in curiosity.

Barbossa narrowed his eyes, "Tis a joint captaincy, and joint venture, so I need assurances that whatever ye ask of him won't lead to any waverin' in his attitude towards said venture."

"I can make no such assurances," Will replied firmly, "For that, you'll need to speak to Jack after our tête-à-tête is complete."

With that, Will walked past Barbossa and entered Jack's cabin, where the extravagant captain was sat patiently at his desk.

"What trouble has she got herself into this time?" asked Jack with irritation, leaning back and folding his arms.

Will frowned, "What?"

Jack sighed, "Not what, but who. Your darling wife, of course, or have ye forgotten her already?"

Elizabeth. His heart swelled at the thought of her face, her lips, her scent. He could never forget her: she was etched into his memory, ingrained on his soul. It was her memory that kept him going, the warmth of her embrace fixing him resolutely to his purpose as captain of his wretched vessel. In less than ten years time they would be together again. She was the only thing keeping him alive, the beacon of hope at the end of his long voyage.

"Elizabeth?" asked Will blankly, before fear began to take over and his face blanched, "Is she alright?"

"You tell me," Jack gave him a strange look, "You're her husband. I'm pretty sure the knowledge of yer wife's whereabouts is mentioned in the vows ye take, unless you were too busy sword fighting at the time to take notice." Was that... bitterness he could hear in Jack's voice?

_Of course not, he always talks in that arrogant tone._

"The last I heard she was set on returning to Port Royal and abandoning her links with piracy. She was going to start a new life, our new life..." Will stopped before his emotions carried him away. He fixed his eyes upon Jack's, "Why, do you know more?"

"I know nothing, I was merely under the assumption that ye'd come asking for help in saving her life again, since that's the only thing that ever brings ye here," Jack unfolded his arms and rose from his seat, "I've not seen Elizabeth since we dropped her off at Shipwreck Cove and that's unlikely to change in the near to distant future."

"Did she say anything when you left her at the Cove?" Jack looked at him as though to protest at having his time wasted, but Will stopped him before he had the chance, "Jack, please."

"She honestly didn't say a lot, mate," answered Jack reluctantly, walking over to the other side of his cabin, seemingly in search of something, "Stayed in her cabin most of the voyage, barely speaking to anyone."

Jack continued looking around his cabin for a bottle of rum (or any kind of alcohol, he really wasn't all that fussed) that would help make this conversation more bearable. So was that it? The only reason why the whelp turned up was to have a friendly discussion about his murderous wife? Will had been known to do stupid things every once in a while, but this was really pushing his luck.

Will spoke up again, "Did you speak to her?"

_Jack approached the door to Elizabeth's cabin with considerable unease, not comfortable with the thought of coming face-to-face with her again but at the same time not trusting Barbossa to convey the message in his place. Seeing that the door was ajar, he knocked, "We're just about to make port at the Cove, 'Lizbeth." _

_After a moment she poked her head around the door, her hair a tangled mess, the dark circles under her eyes suggesting she'd had little sleep the night before, the first night she'd spent without her husband. As much as Jack didn't want to feel any kind of sympathy towards her whatsoever, he found that he couldn't help it. Jack had never seen her look so vulnerable. _

"_Thank you," she replied quietly._

_Jack smiled and bowed his head before turning around and walking off, but before he reached the end of the corridor Elizabeth spoke again, "Jack?"_

_He turned around and looked at her questioningly._

"_Why did you do it?" Jack blinked at her, confused, "On the _Dutchman_, I mean. Why did you let Will stab the heart?"_

"_He was dying, luv," replied Jack as though the answer was obvious._

"_But... you could have stabbed it yourself. Will..." she stopped and took a deep breath, "He told me what you were planning."_

_Jack walked up to her until they were only a few inches apart, their eyes equal in intensity, "Isn't it obvious?" he grinned, though consciously averting his eyes from hers, "I grew uncomfortable with the notion of having me thump-thump ripped from my body and locked in a chest, and I was concerned about the potential tentacles..." he rubbed his beard with a pout._

_Elizabeth gave him a small smile, "I always knew you were a good man, Jack."_

"_A bad pirate, you mean," said Jack with a tinge of bitterness and contempt in his voice._

_Elizabeth bit her lip, unable to meet his eyes. "What will you do now?"_

"_Tortuga," Jack answered, before flashing her a roguish smirk, "Where else?"_

"Jack?" Jack spun around to face Will, his memory rudely interrupted, "Did you speak to Elizabeth at all during the journey to Shipwreck Cove?"

"I'm afraid not, mate," Jack pulled open a drawer and grinned when he saw a bottle of rum inside. He lifted it out and took a long swig, "Now, forgive me for being rude, but could ye tell me the actual reason for your being here? I take it we're not just here to discuss yer wife."

"I don't bring glad tidings, Jack."

Jack was slightly taken aback by the seriousness in Will's voice. It was as though he'd suddenly aged a few years, a certain degree of weariness in his features. Jack supposed it wasn't easy being the captain of the _Dutchman_, forced to face the dead, the dying and the mutilated on a daily basis. He held out his bottle of rum to Will, who took it but chose not to drink from it.

"There's been an incident at sea," Will explained calmly, "Involving your father."

There was a long moment of silence between the pair. Jack then spoke up, eyes fixed on the floor, "What kind of incident?"

"He's dead, Jack," Will looked into Jack's eyes expecting some kind of reaction, but there was none, just a void where his anger and grief should have been, "I didn't get there in time. I'm sorry."

There was still no response, Jack remaining firmly planted to the spot, leaning on his desk as if it was the only thing keeping him standing. All the while his face remained impassive, unreadable.

Will took it upon himself to continue, "I thought you ought to know. I wanted to tell you in person, before you found out through other means. I had hoped I could save him, repay my debt to you, but I was too late."

"What was the cause?" Jack asked quietly.

"He'd been shot, but it was more likely the water got to him first. He must have been thrown overboard. There was nothing I could do, Jack. I'm sorry," Will repeated, willing for Jack to react, to offer some kind of a response.

"Death comes for us all in the end, mate," said Jack gravely, finally sparing a glance in Will's direction.

"Bill told me about him, on our way here," Will looked down at the bottle of rum in his hand, "He sounds like a good man."

"But a lousy father, nonetheless," Jack returned to his desk, sitting down and studying one of the charts strewn across it.

Will walked up to the desk, until he was only inches away from it, "Jack, you shouldn't speak ill of him. He was your father, after all."

Jack met his gaze and Will could at last perceive the anger behind those dark orbs, "Just because you recently partook in a family reunion does not mean you are the undisputed expert on them," he replied bitingly before his gaze returned to his charts.

"But my father did tell me that Teague was proud of you, Jack. He obviously wasn't as bad as you seem to remember," challenged Will, surprising himself with the amount of animosity in his tone. He hadn't meant to provoke that kind of reaction from Jack, but he didn't understand why the pirate captain wasn't more distressed by the news. Everything about Teague he'd heard from his own father, and not once had he mentioned that there was any resentment between them.

Jack shrugged sardonically, "Any other advice ye wish to impart from the Turners' guide to father-son relationships before we part?" Will pursed his lips and shook his head, "Good. Now, ye can do me an actual favour and... give me that back," he pointed to the bottle of rum.

Will handed it over and Jack took a long gulp, finishing off the liquid in the bottle. Whilst he was doing that, Will's eyes scanned Jack's desk until they rested on his compass, closed and idle only a hand's reach away from him. Why wasn't it on Jack's person? He would never leave it unattended - it was one of his most prized possessions. Anybody could just steal it.

A passing thought floated into Will's mind and he impulsively grabbed the compass, hiding it behind his back. Glancing back at Jack, Will was relieved to find him still drinking the bottle of rum, his head tilted to the ceiling of the cabin and completely unaware that one of his belongings had been pilfered.

After a short moment, Jack put the empty bottle of rum on his desk and his eyes briefly scanned his desk, Will holding his breath, dreading that he'd notice that his beloved compass had gone missing.

Fortunately, he was either too drunk or too distracted to discern anything and focused his attention back on Will. He squinted at him in bewilderment, "What are ye still doing here? Didn't I tell you to leave already?"

"You haven't dismissed me yet, though I guess it's probably easier to dismiss myself," Will observed dryly, noticing that Jack had begun to search through his drawers again, probably in search of more rum.

Will turned and made for the door, slyly slipping the compass into his coat pocket. If Jack no longer needed or wanted it then Will was more than happy to take it off his hands. He would use it to find the thing he wanted most. He would use it to find Elizabeth. Whenever he wanted to find her, to see her again, he would pull out the compass and it would lead him to her.

A niggling thought in the back of his mind reminded him that the only reason he'd taken it was because he suspected she'd ignored his wishes, but he paid no heed to the lingering doubt. She loved him. She had stayed in Port Royal. The compass was only there just in case... any extenuating circumstances had led to her departing the island and moving elsewhere.

...

Fourteen years ago

Jack groaned as his senses gradually began to return to him. How much had he had to drink? There was a relentless pounding in the back of his head and his memory was foggy. That must have been one hell of a night at the tavern for him to have drunk enough that he couldn't recall the events of the night before. Though, more importantly, was he where he passed out?

He carefully opened his eyes and for a moment was afraid he'd become blind, since the whole area was in complete darkness. Fortunately, the longer he spent scanning the area frantically with his eyes, the more they began to adjust to his surroundings. Without moving his head, he could scarcely perceive a wooden ceiling above him. Where on earth was he?

He then made the mistake of trying to sit up, the sudden movement causing a jolt of pain to sear through his skull. He moved his hand to the back of his head and recoiled as the palm of his hand met with a sticky, wet substance. Even though he couldn't see anything in front of him, he was pretty sure of the nature of the liquid on the back of his head and equally knew that it wasn't a good sign.

At once, he set about trying to stand without causing too much throbbing in his head. Maybe the haze in his mind and pounding head weren't results of too much drinking after all. Maybe he'd been attacked? But surely he would have tried to defend himself? Unless somebody hit him from behind...

_Edgardo._

The memories rushed back and the steady rocking of the floor beneath him as he stood up confirmed that he was not in a tavern but on Teague's ship. Looking around however, he was pretty sure that he wasn't still in the gangway leading to Teague's cabin. There were no portholes or windows in sight, ensuring that the room was completely pitch black. Jack walked over to a strange object on the other side of the small room and, as he drew closer, he noticed that it was in fact a barrel and he guessed that he was in the rum cellar at the very base of the ship. Edgardo must have had him dragged here after knocking him out.

Jack staggered towards the door and pulled it desperately but it remained shut tight, presumably locked. He kicked the door a few times in frustration before he took a few steps back and tried to survey the room, squinting through the darkness. He needed to think. He needed to work out how he was going to get out of here.

He could just wait, surely one of the crew or Teague himself would notice that he'd gone missing and come searching for him. Unfortunately, Jack had no idea how long he'd been unconscious for, nor did he know what excuse Edgardo might have concocted to explain his absence. There was no way of opening the door without a key and Jack had nothing on him that could constitute as a key or weapon that he could use to forcibly open it (his newly stolen sword had been reclaimed by its original owner during his unconsciousness). It seemed he had no choice but to wait.

Jack must have been waiting a few hours before there was finally sign of life on the other side of the door and a rattling in the lock. He rushed to his feet upon hearing the noise and immediately regretted it, a spike of pain coursing through his head. He grabbed his hat, which he'd managed to find whilst searching in the darkness, and edged towards the side of the wall adjacent to the door, preparing to hide behind the door once it opened so he could determine whether the person attempting to enter was friendly or not.

The lock clicked and Jack was nearly crushed by the door as the person angrily flung it open, not caring for any poor souls that had been innocently trapped inside. Jack edged along the wall in an attempt to blend into the shadows and remain unseen however, upon seeing the exorbitantly feathered hat and familiar long coat of the person entering the cellar, he strode forward, "Teague?"

Teague whipped his head to the side and raised his lantern in Jack's direction, illuminating his face, "What are you doing here, boy?"

Jack looked around vainly in the darkness, trying to decide if telling Teague about his confrontation with Edgardo was a good idea and figuring out a plausible excuse for his being in the rum cellar. "I had an insatiable thirst for rum to quench that I can't actually remember having," he explained with a hesitant smile.

"Someone put ye in here, did they?" Teague replied astutely.

Jack walked past the pirate captain and out into the gangway, pleased to be out of the rum cellar, "Your first mate, actually. He has quite a temper."

Teague grabbed a bottle of rum from inside the cellar and locked the door, "He's Spanish so it comes with the territory. Good place to meet fiery wenches though," he looked at Jack in earnest and handed him the rum bottle, "I highly recommend it."

"Might have to try it sometime," answered Jack half-heartedly, Teague's lantern allowing him to briefly notice the alarming amount of his own dried blood on the palm of his hand. He reached for the back of his head again, hissing when his hand went through his thick, dark hair and made contact with his skin.

Teague stopped walking and turned around to face Jack, who was still groping futilely at the back of his head. He grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, moving his lantern so that it illuminated the back of the lad's head for him to inspect the wound. "Hold still," he reprimanded as he pulled strands of Jack's hair away to reveal the graze, barely a flesh wound but bruised enough for some concern.

"How bad is it?" Jack asked warily, wincing as Teague pulled his head back to get a clearer view of the wound.

Teague released his grip on Jack's shoulder, "Not life threatening."

Jack spun around to face the older man with an indignant expression on his lightly tanned face, facial hair beginning to grow around his mouth and chin, "Highly reassuring, I assure you."

Teague's own face remained impassive, despite being secretly amused by the similarities between Jack and his younger self. "How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

Jack squinted through the darkness, "Four..."

"Then ye'll be fine." Teague continued walking down the corridor, Jack struggling to keep up with the man's brisk pace.

"You might want to talk to him," Jack quickened his own pace until he'd caught up with Teague, walking adjacent to him, "Edgardo. He has it in his head that I'm planning a mutiny."

"Ye're not entertaining such thoughts, are ye?" Teague stopped and glanced at Jack severely.

"Of course not," replied Jack hotly, "Mutiny is one of the worst crimes one can commit."

Teague scoffed gently to himself, "I admire yer notions of honour, lad, but I fear they're misplaced here."

"They're only misplaced if one chooses to place them. I may be a pirate and therefore a common criminal, but that doesn't mean I can't have a moral code that I keep to meself, savvy?" Jack took in his father's appearance, finding himself slightly in awe at its uniqueness and originality. It seemed the way to be successful as a pirate was to create an identity for yourself, something that made you stand out from the crowd.

Teague gave Jack a sad smile, "Act with honour, Jackie, but don't let it take over yer life. One of the many perks of bein' a scoundrel is that ye can do whatever ye want, damning the consequences. There'll come a time when ye'll have to play dirty in order to survive."

Without warning, the ship suddenly lurched to the side, throwing Jack roughly into the wall of the ship and causing Teague to nearly lose his footing. The pirate captain was the first to react, picking up the lantern he'd dropped and hurrying along the gangway, set on returning on deck to find out what was going on. Jack quickly regained his balance and followed, his captain instincts immediately kicking in.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Oh nooo Teague's dead! I really didn't want to kill him off but it is an unfortunate and necessary measure that will serve the plot later on - and a reason to mess with Jack's head a little more (because, honestly, it's not like he's suffered enough already... :L Yes, I'm cruel lol). Don't worry though, he isn't gone from this story entirely - he will still appear in the flashbacks to fourteen years ago and will still be a presence in the story :)

Response to review: River - Thank you so much for all of your reviews so far! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story and like the way I'm writing Jack - he's such a difficult and complex character to pin down and express so that means a lot! I'm so happy you like my interpretation of Jack's past, though I can't take all the credit since the whole Beckett branding him and slave thing is canon, but the rest of Jack's past is such a grey area so I'm just kinda having fun with it and exploring the implications of him becoming a pirate. Thank you again! I hope you continue to enjoy it :D

Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! Till next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Sorry for the slight delay, but here's the next chapter! I've had a pretty hectic weekend and it took a little longer than usual to prep this chapter for uploading (it was such a pain to write lol), but I'll make up for the delay by uploading chapter 8 on Thursday, which will signal the beginning of the end of Jack's past timeline and move the plot ever closer to Jack and Elizabeth's meeting!

Reminder that I do not own POTC :(

**Spoiler:** Jack gets to flex his nautical, captain-ly muscles and there's the fall out from Will's unexpected visit

* * *

Fourteen years ago

When Jack finally made it on deck he found members of the crew running frantically back and forth, some carrying weapons, others were panicking for their lives. He turned his attention to the horizon and looked out, the moonlight illuminating the landscape enough for Jack to spot a ship heading towards off the starboard bow. He tore his gaze from the ocean and noticed Teague stride past him, heading up to the helm. Jack followed.

"What colours is she flying?" Teague demanded of Edgardo as he ascended the stairs to join him at the helm.

"British Navy. Some of _his_ friends, no doubt," the first mate lowered his spyglass, looking at Jack with disgust.

Refusing to be intimidated, Jack met him with an angry glare, "I was East India Trading Company, actually."

"Even less honourable then," Edgardo jeered, determined to elicit a violent response from Jack in front of his father.

Intent on keeping his dignity, Jack chose to ignore him, more concerned with the risk of the enemy ship opening fire. He snatched the spyglass from Edgardo's hand and looked out towards the vessel, its crew seemingly preparing for some kind of attack and sailing steadily towards them.

"What caused the ship to lurch? Was she hit?" said Teague impatiently, taking over the wheel from the crew member currently stationed there.

"I tried to steer the ship away but as I did she hit a reef," Edgardo explained, "It seems we have no choice but to face her."

"We're outgunned," Jack spoke up, still looking through the spyglass, "She has forty guns at least, an' there's no way we could broadside an English frigate without being completely destroyed in the process."

"Then what do ye suggest, boy?" Teague asked.

Jack lowered the spyglass and turned to face him, "Run out the long range cannons and attack her on the approach. Splinter the masts to slow her down before making our escape."

"If we can splinter her masts then we can take her," Edgardo challenged, before turning to the rest of the crew hurrying on deck, "Run out the guns you worthless cads!"

"An' what, get obliterated by Navy cannon the moment we get in range?" said Jack derisively.

Edgardo narrowed his eyes at Jack, clearly insulted by the disrespect being shown to him, "We weaken her on the approach until she can't fight back. Then we board and give no quarter, splitting the plunder."

Jack's expression became almost comical, looking at Edgardo as though he'd grown another head. He turned to Teague, "Please tell me ye're not taking this landlubber seriously."

"You're forgetting that I'm quartermaster of this ship, so my opinion is more valid than yours in this matter."

"Says the only person here what has never captained a ship before."

Teague pursed his lips in annoyance, "Edgardo, go below and oversee the loading of the chain cannons. Make sure the crew firstly know what the mast is and secondly ensure they aim the cannons properly. Sparrow, ye're to remain here."

Jack looked at Edgardo with a smug grin on his face at having Teague side with him on the matter. Edgardo merely glared at him before walking off.

"Why is he your first mate?" Jack inquired as he watched Edgardo descend the stairs that led below deck, "His attitude is incredibly rash."

"Edgardo's a fine sailor," Teague turned the wheel several degrees port, preparing to circle the enemy ship and get close enough to fire the long range cannons, "He's proved himself to be an expert navigator and has won us some fine loot over the last few years."

"Just what kind of loot is he expectin' to find on a Navy frigate?" Jack raised his spyglass again and put it to his eye, "Everyone knows they're war machines, liable to blow up at any given moment."

"He also has a notorious blood thirst and an innate hatred for those in His Majesty's service," Teague explained as the _Troubadour_'s cannons began firing at the Navy ship.

Jack squinted through the spyglass as he saw the first cannonball make contact with the ship's bow, "That explains why he hates me, then. I'm an enemy and a threat." He lowered the spyglass, the enemy ship finally coming into range.

"It would help if ye weren't so prejudiced by yer first impressions," said Teague with a raised eyebrow.

Another cannonball struck the ship, this time hitting the deck. The crew's aim was steadily improving. "Are you saying I should let someone speak to me as though I were a small child?"

"Aye, seein' as though ye often act like one."

Before Jack could plaster an indignant look on his face or offer up a retort, a large cracking sound reverberated around them. Turning back to the enemy ship, a smile crept onto his face as he saw the mast splinter and cascade into the black ocean.

He spun back around to Teague, "Hard to port! We go with the wind."

Teague nodded and began spinning the wheel towards the port side of the ship whilst Jack hurried down the steps, shouting instructions to the crew on deck.

He then caught sight of Hector securing the ropes from the rigging on the main deck. Jack wandered over to him, still anxiously glancing over at the enemy ship, beginning to disappear into the darkness of the night.

Hector gave him a sly grin, "Teague seems to trust ye enough to let ye run his ship for him. How'd he react to yer revelation?"

"As expected," Jack scanned his eyes over the rigging of the sails before going to aid Hector with the tying of the ropes.

Hector waited for a more comprehensive response and was surprised when he received none. He leaned over to Jack, "Care to elaborate on that?"

"He already knew," Jack answered quietly, eyes still fixed on the rope, "And I knew that he already knew so his knowing was unequivocally and undoubtedly _not_ new to me."

Teague's son spared a fleeting glance in Hector's direction before returning to the task in hand. Hector rested one hand on the railing, "An' what are ye plannin' now?"

Jack shrugged, "Would rather get off this ship as soon as I can, mate, then spend any longer in the company of certain pirates."

"The Spaniard still givin' ye trouble?"

"Somethin' like that," Jack raised his head and Hector was instantly drawn to the thin red line across his neck, presumably caused by a sharp blade pressed against his throat. Since Hector was pretty certain that Jack wouldn't have inflicted that upon himself (even though he had been displaying some mad characteristics as of late), it was safe to assume that Edgardo had threatened him in some way.

That wouldn't do. If Jack was to survive long enough for Teague to bestow his pirate title then this Edgardo would need to somehow be dispatched. There was no way they could escape: the nearest port was miles away as they had headed from Tortuga all the way out towards the Indian Ocean.

"We won't make port for weeks, lad. Ye're goin' to have to get used to havin' Edgardo around," said Hector resignedly.

Jack averted his eyes to the horizon once more, the enemy ship nearly unperceivable in the dead night as its faint outline merged into the dark ocean and sky, "The sooner we make port, the better. The man's a nightmare to be around."

"Have ye been to Teague with yer concerns?" Looking at the young pirate's eyes, Hector noticed the dark lines encircling them, the realities of the pirate lifestyle beginning to show. The constant need to be alert, to be prepared for attack did prove wearisome after a while, though Hector was certain the lad would grow used to it. After all, there was no chance he could return to the easygoing merchant life he had enjoyed before.

"Edgardo's his first mate," replied Jack in a low voice, "His word is worth ten of mine."

"In both a figurative _and_ literal sense, aye," Hector smirked.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, miffed, "Very funny."

"Now ye understand how I feel when ye decide to be disparagin' about me good self."

"I'm just being honest," Jack grinned, a roguish, lopsided smirk that succeeded in completely shielding his true thoughts and obvious unease that had been present a moment ago. If he was able to conceal murderous and violent thoughts behind such a cloud of self-control, then it was true that Jack had the makings of a dishonest, unpredictable, and most importantly, dangerous pirate.

"Maybe ye should try bein' dishonest a bit more often, 'specially if ye're intendin' to adopt a more appeasin' attitude towards our European acquaintance."

"You're overlooking one obvious fact, mate: I'm English, he's Spanish and, historically speaking, we generally don't get along."

Hector let his mouth curve upwards in a display of amiability towards the young man, secretly planning a way forward for his plan to obtain pirate lordship. He wasn't going to let a Spanish pirate get in the way, nor was he going to allow the illegitimate son of Captain Teague to squander his plans.

...

Present

Captain Turner and, by extension, the crew of the _Dutchman_ had not stayed long, almost as soon as Will had left Jack's cabin he disappeared back onto his ship and sailed off into the distance, vanishing into the advancing sunrise.

He barely spared a word or even a glance in Gibbs' or Barbossa's direction as he emerged from the captain's quarters, a veil of guilt and pity marked on his features.

Barbossa was quick to stop him before he stepped foot onto the _Dutchman_, "Where be Jack?"

Gibbs was once again surprised at Barbossa's apparent concern for Jack's whereabouts, though he came to the conclusion that if he was going to mutiny against Jack then the eccentric captain would need to be on board for it to happen. No use him running off to the _Dutchman_, even though Gibbs could not see Jack abandoning the _Pearl_ for anything.

The whole situation was rather confusing. Gibbs decided it would probably be best to try not to think about it. They were going to carry out their own mutiny soon, anyway, so none of it would even matter.

Will turned to the captain, a detached facade appearing on his face, "In his cabin, most likely victim to an unreasonable amount of rum by now."

Gibbs blinked at the Turner lad, puzzled as to why Jack would be excessively drinking at a time like this. They were about to stage a mutiny and the captain would need all his wits about him to succeed and not be outmanoeuvred by Barbossa.

"Shall we be seein' ye again then, Captain Turner?" Barbossa asked graciously, with one of those false smiles that sent shivers down Gibbs' spine.

"No, lest fate summons me here," said Will solemnly, "I have my duty to perform."

Will glanced at Gibbs, giving him a small smile and nod before he boarded the _Dutchman_ and the ship sailed into the horizon, merging with the clear sun that began to rise in the distance.

Almost as soon as the ship had departed, Barbossa and Gibbs headed towards Jack's cabin. Opening the door, Gibbs was relieved to find him unharmed, leaning back in his chair against the desk, staring at his bottle of rum curiously.

"What did the whelp want?" Barbossa demanded as he walked up to the desk, anger evident in his voice.

Jack turned lazily to look at him, extending his hand towards him, "Rum?"

Barbossa hissed at the bottle and slammed his hands on the desk, causing Jack to nearly jump out of his chair, "If it is somethin' important, hear tell it needs to be shared wit' yer fellow captain and first mate, or else ye'll find there may be consequences."

"What if it's not important?" Jack slurred with a flippant flick of the wrist, and Gibbs could tell that the captain was more inebriated than usual, leading him to wonder what Will had told him.

"Of course, 'cos yerself and Mr Turner are known fer havin' a caring relationship," said Barbossa, removing his hands from the table and taking a few steps back.

Jack raised his hand to object, brow furrowed in deep concentration, "We did." He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought, "Till I forced him into servitude aboard the ghost ship, kissed his bonny lass, threw him in the brig, threw him overboard and forced him to stab the thump-thump," he refocused his eyes upon Barbossa, smile on his face, "Until that point we were golden."

Barbossa growled in annoyance, turning his attention to Gibbs, "Tell me ye can talk sense into him. Ye've known him longer."

Gibbs was about to answer when Jack interjected, "Actually, I've known you longer, Barbossa, even though after the mutiny it felt like I hadn't really known you at all."

"Call it dishonesty," Barbossa suggested modestly, a proud look on his face.

"I met Gibbs after the mutiny," Jack continued, before his trail of thought seemed to halt and change direction, "Mutiny. Interesting word. Derived from the French... detestable word, really," he pointed at Gibbs decidedly, "I want the person what invented it shot, as painfully as possible if ye please, Mr Gibbs." When he saw Gibbs hesitate for a moment, Jack frowned, "Quickly, Mr Gibbs. The man might be on me ship for all you know."

Gibbs was at a loss of what to say, concerned not only for the captain's state of mind but also fearful of him revealing their plot to mutiny against Barbossa. Meanwhile, the other captain was fixing him with a stern glare.

"For the love of mother and child, Jack..." he began, exasperated with the captain, "What did Will tell you?"

Jack's eyes widened, suddenly self-conscious, "Nothing." Gibbs knew that tone, the same he used when he'd sent the crew of the _Black Pearl_ into a frenzy over what they later learned was the black spot.

"We're concerned about ye, Jack," Gibbs explained, to which Barbossa scoffed derisively, "I'm concerned about ye."

Jack stood up from his chair, swaying dangerously with the rocking of the ship, "I'm flattered, but yer concern is not necessary, Mr Gibbs."

The more Gibbs observed his captain's behaviour, the easier it was to see the changes in his demeanour since the _Dutchman_ had visited. It was as though Will had let him in on some sobering fact which had forced Jack to get drunk in order to push it from his mind. For as long as he'd known the captain, it had been the way he dealt with difficult and often personal situations - to drink himself into a stupor for a few days before returning to normal (or what should be classed as Jack's 'normal' state). After instructing them to find land after receiving the black spot, Jack had proceeded to spent the following few days either locked in his cabin with only rum for company, or at the helm gazing anxiously out onto the ocean, looking for land.

What was clear was that he was not willing to divulge the specifics of what Will had told him, although it didn't take a genius to work out that it wasn't good news.

"Does what Will had to say have a bearing on our quest?" Gibbs asked, hoping that Jack understood the coded meaning behind those words.

Jack's eyes wandered distractedly around the room, "Let's reach Shipwreck Cove before making such decisions. They hurt me brain." He clasped at his head with a wince.

Barbossa seemed instantly satisfied by that answer, promptly spinning on his heel and striding out of the cabin, leaving Jack and Gibbs alone.

Gibbs turned his head from the door to find Jack staggering around his desk in search of something. "How long have ye been awake, captain?"

Jack stopped and looked at Gibbs, wrinkling his forehead as though trying to figure out a complicated mathematical equation. He finally spoke up, "Two hours longer than that which I would have slept had there not been that incident requiring me presence on deck and then that plan I made to steal me ship back..."

"Ye need to rest, captain," Gibbs interjected before Jack could go on any longer, his confusing explanation proof enough that he'd not had any sleep in the past day or so.

"And leave the fiend in charge of me ship?" Jack raised his eyebrow in bewilderment.

Gibbs sighed, "Jack, ye have nothin' to worry about. Most of the crew are on yer side an' wouldn't dare stage a mutiny against ye."

"Apart from the two fools," Jack tried to stand up straight in his position in front of his desk but the combination of the rum and the rolling motion of the ship nearly led him to topple over and forced him to grab the edge of the desk. "And the crewman what argues with Barbossa before disappearing from sight. Who is he, anyway?"

"Ye mean Stan? He barely talks to anyone, he much prefers to keep himself to himself as it were." Gibbs answered, this Stan fellow being quite mysterious to him as well. All Gibbs had learned from Marty was that Stan had been personally chosen by Barbossa to join the crew, which didn't bode well. However, he was reluctant to inform Jack of this, given his current intoxicated state, in case he decided to storm over to the crew's quarters and declare war on the crew lad, who could well be entirely innocent.

Jack nodded before shifting his gaze to the door to his bedchamber, "Sleep then, I suppose."

"Aye," said Gibbs, relieved that the captain was finally getting the right idea, "I'll keep watch on Barbossa to ensure he don't get any ideas."

Gibbs watched as Jack walked through the door and shut it behind him. He lingered in the cabin a few moments longer, to make sure that Jack wasn't trying to deceive him and not go to bed, but after a short while of waiting a loud thud caught his attention.

He went over to the door and gently knocked, "Jack?" When there was no answer, he carefully pushed the door open and, collapsed in a heap on the floor next to his bed was Jack, snoring softly, his tricorn hat, coat, boots and shirt strewn over the bed. Gibbs smiled at the sleeping captain, who must have been more exhausted than he was letting on, and quietly stepped around him, grabbing a pillow from the bed and settling it under Jack's head.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed it - though I don't think it's my best chapter, personally, but as I said things will start to pick up in the next few chapters and we'll see our two darlings finally meet up again! Just for the record, nautical terminology and ship battles are not my speciality so if any of it is inaccurate do not hesitate to let me know :)

Response to review: River - Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad you liked the flashback, there's plenty more J/E interaction to come as the story progresses! Haha yeah it is very unlike Jack to leave his compass around, but hopefully the reason for that will eventually become clear and now that Will has it, well, things will start to get interesting hehe :D Thanks again!

Please don't forget to let me know what you think and leave a review! They're all greatly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** As promised, here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for all of the reviews so far, they really mean a lot! Oh, and I think this is a good time to just mention that this story is post-AWE, but ignoring the *shivers* post-credits scene

Reminder that I do not own POTC

**Spoiler:** Quite a pivotal chapter, this one :D

* * *

Four days ago

Elizabeth confidently disembarked the _Crimson Maiden_, an unremarkable and rather ordinary ship commanded by a rowdy bunch of rumrunners, and walked along the long dock into Tortuga, a town that was still awash with frivolity even during daylight hours. Nevertheless, this was her best chance of finding a vessel intended for Shipwreck Island, despite being tempted to satisfy her curiosity by inquiring as to the location of a certain outlandish pirate captain.

Seeing one of the dockworkers unloading a ship of cargo nearby, she hurried over to him, strangely anxious to know if Jack Sparrow was in town. Just as she was about to call out to him, she remembered that she was once again disguised as a man and should therefore ensure her voice matched.

"Excuse me!" she called out, inwardly reprimanding herself for using her manners whilst dressed as a pirate.

"Aye?" replied the man with a distinctly Jamaican accent.

"I don't suppose you've..." Elizabeth trailed off as she realised she was still addressing him as though he was of nobility, such as the way she spoke to Port Royal's new governor, a man she'd recently discovered was a rather grotesque fellow and one whom she desperately avoided whenever she could. The dockworker, however, hadn't appeared to notice, so she continued, "Has the _Black Pearl_ made port here recently?"

"Sailed from here yesterday."

Elizabeth couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that she'd only just missed the_ Pearl_, "Do you know where she was headed, or who sailed on her?"

"Not sure, that were a whole day ago an' I has a lot of ships that pass through here. I cannot remember dem all."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, knowing full well what the man was after. There was no way he could forget anything about the only ship in the Caribbean with black sails. She reached into her pocket and pulled out several shillings, "Would this refresh your memory?"

The man greedily took the coins and rolled them over in his hand, "Tis comin' back, but my mind still be hazy on the details."

Before the man started demanding any more money, Elizabeth quickly drew her sword and pointed it at his neck. "You were saying?"

"Do not tink that I cower at any threat made to me," the man challenged, unfazed by the sword poking into his neck.

Elizabeth took a step towards him in her best attempt to look threatening, "What if I informed you that it was by my actions that the notorious pirate Jack Sparrow was dragged to Davy Jones' Locker?"

She tried her best to ignore the guilt that settled in her chest, it being the first time that she'd ever admitted her responsibility for Jack's 'death' out loud. Her threat appeared to have worked, though, as the man's face paled in fear and he swallowed nervously. "The _Pearl _left dis port a day ago with both Captain Barbossa and Jack Sparrow. Rumour has it they seek de fabled Fountain of Youth."

Elizabeth let the information sink in, vaguely recalling the legends she read as a child that spoke of a fountain able to grant eternal youth but never once believing it actually existed. Though, equally, she wouldn't be surprised if this quest to the fountain was merely another one of Jack's outrageous lies designed to further inflate his vanity. She had learned that rumours pertaining to Jack Sparrow rarely told the whole story.

She released her sword from the man's throat and walked off, racking her brain for any other notable pirates who might be sailing from Tortuga. The names of the other pirate lords floated through her mind but she found she didn't know them well enough to be able to recall anything about them other than their names.

Not knowing what else to do, she walked into one of the many taverns located within a short walk of the docks and took a seat, hoping that she might spot a pirate she recognised. She needed to find a way of gaining passage to Shipwreck Cove so that she could reclaim the _Empress_ for herself, being the rightful pirate lord. She had left the ship to Tai Huang in her absence, making sure to inform him that if she was ever to return to a pirating life she would be reinstated as captain.

It was a few more long hours before she finally caught sight of a familiar hat and powdered wig, the tall Frenchman by the name of Chevalle striding into the tavern with the majority of his crew and taking a seat nearby. Catching her breath at being so fortunate as to encounter a fellow pirate lord, she got up from her seat and wandered over to his table, being sure to keep her hat lowered over her face.

Captain Chevalle's eyes were inexplicably drawn to her as she approached and upon her coming to a halt in front of his table, he stopped the hilarious French joke he was sharing with his crew. She tilted her hat upwards slightly so that he could see her face, and she immediately perceived his brow furrow in thought, trying to recall where he'd seen her before.

"Captain Chevalle," Elizabeth greeted cordially, using her usual voice in the hope it might trigger his memory.

After a moment of careful consideration, he responded, "Do I know you?"

"Captain Swann," she replied simply, not realising until after she'd spoken that she'd referred to herself with her maiden name. Her heart lurched as her mind wandered to memories of William again, as she thought of his horror if he should realise that she'd disobeyed his wishes and was here alone in Tortuga, of all places.

It wasn't that she wanted to go against him, she just knew she couldn't live the life of a pining widow any longer. Maybe she was being selfish, but she had more than nine years to live her life before she needed to return to their island for their next day together. And besides, if she could find Will and the _Flying Dutchman_ in the interim, then perhaps she could be with him at sea.

The Frenchman's eyes widened as he took in her appearance, "The Pirate King?" he muttered quietly, glancing over at the rest of his crew, too busy engaging in what appeared to be a drinking contest. "Allow me to buy you a drink, your highness." He got up from his seat and Elizabeth followed him over to the bar, where he ordered two tankards of rum, not even asking her if she actually wanted it or not.

The barmaid brought over the two tankards and Chevalle took a long gulp, Elizabeth choosing instead to take a small sip, not wanting to lose her inhibitions in a place such as this.

"What brings you to this wretched island, and in that wretched attire no less? I heard you abandoned piracy some months ago." he asked with a look of disgust at her simple white shirt, brown breeches and coat.

Elizabeth held her head up to him, refusing to be intimidated, "I changed my mind, and have come here seeking passage to Shipwreck Cove."

Chevalle scoffed derisively, "And what makes you think I would step foot there again?"

"The same reason that brought you here," said Elizabeth shrewdly, "Desperation. Why else would you be here and not in Europe, captain?"

The pirate captain eyed her suspiciously, "Both the British and Spanish navy have routed out piracy in the Mediterranean and have left me no choice but to come to this hellhole."

Elizabeth paused a moment, trying to determine the best tactic to persuade the Frenchman to journey to the Cove, "Would the French not offer you a pardon in return for your services as a privateer?"

"Pardon me, mademoiselle," Elizabeth held her tongue, wishing to correct Chevalle for referring to her as mademoiselle and not madame, but suddenly remembering that she'd never told any of the Brethren Court about her marriage to Will, "But that is hypocritical given that you also value your freedom highly enough to give up a life of luxury for it."

"Then you should not be complaining at having ended up on this wretched isle," returned Elizabeth defiantly, "It is one of the few safe havens left for our kind, except of course for the Cove, which naturally draws a more civilised crowd due to its location in the middle of nowhere."

Chevalle let out a hollow laugh, "Is this how you persuaded Jack Sparrow to vote for you to be pirate king? Or was it a more... _physical_ act of persuasion that drew him to your side?" his eyes briefly wandered over her figure, leading Elizabeth to self-consciously fold her arms and send him a look of immense disgust at even suggesting that she'd lower herself to that level.

"Will you be journeying to the Cove or am I wasting my time in asking you?" Elizabeth asked sharply.

The Frenchman rose from his bar stool, "I'll make the preparations and we shall sail after noon, chérie."

...

Later that day, Chevalle directed her to the _Fancy_, a surprisingly modest sloop for a man of such extravagant tastes, and they were free of Tortuga port by the evening, Shipwreck Cove only a mere week away.

Despite his insistence that she exchange her _chiffons sans le sour_ for one of the many dresses he kept in his captain's quarters, Elizabeth was content to remain in the simple breeches and shirt she'd worn to Tortuga. She'd spent the last two months wearing dresses on a near-daily basis as she attempted to reintegrate herself into society and was in no hurry to dress up again. The considerable time spent amongst unpretentious pirates had dented her ability to make conversation with other young women of her age, given that discussion would always stray from the political topics of the day to either the weather, fashion or whichever officer of the Navy had caught their fancy that week.

And that didn't take into the account the constant need to explain her fleeting absence to many old friends and associates on the island, since she realised that to avoid any suspicion she would need to justify her reported dalliance with a life of criminality. She settled for explaining that any rumours of her leading a pirate revolt against the Armada were utterly false, since she spent the entirety of her time at sea as one of Jack Sparrow's prisoners in his twisted plot against Lord Beckett (she was certain he would be pleased, not insulted, that she'd used his name in such a way). Needless to say, the majority of her friends on the island took her word for it, however she was forced to keep a low profile around the island, particularly when near the fort, in case any Navy officers recognised her from skirmishes in either Singapore or at the Maelstrom.

Fortunately, she had acquired enough money from her father's will and Sao Feng's reserves on Shipwreck Cove to sustain a modest livelihood for herself however the life of a hermit wasn't particularly enjoyable, so to be again amongst the ferocity and restlessness of the ocean was reassuringly soothing.

"What are you hoping to find at Shipwreck Cove?" Elizabeth was startled to discover Chevalle standing right behind her, as she gazed out onto wistfully onto the ocean on the third day of their voyage.

Elizabeth briefly regarded him, age and a sea-faring life not having been particularly favourable towards him, weary circles under his eyes only barely concealed by the powder on his face. She turned her gaze back towards the horizon, "The _Empress_."

Chevalle came and stood next to her, resting his arms on the railing of his ship, "That's not all. There's more to it than that."

Elizabeth turned her head sceptically towards him, "You expect me to believe that you know me better than I know myself, despite knowing me no longer than three days?"

Chevalle shook his head, keeping his gaze on the horizon, "No man can be as determined as you are in seeking a mere ship."

"I know one man that can be," replied Elizabeth firmly.

The Frenchman met her eyes, "_Oui_, but you are not that man. Unless it is that man you seek?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "Jack Sparrow?" she scoffed, "Decidedly not. I wish to never lay eyes on that man again. His hair-brained schemes have ended up taking what I love most."

She at once detected the curiosity behind his weary orbs, "An' what would that be?"

"My husband," she replied with an air of directness she hadn't intended.

"Forgive me," Chevalle held up his hands in a surrendering motion, "It is just that you said 'what' rather than 'who', so I thought that Sparrow had taken something precious to you."

The French captain then walked off back towards the helm, leaving Elizabeth alone by the railing to consider what he had said. Perhaps she had been a little harsh, a little overstated, when she said to Chevalle that Jack had taken what she loved most. _There it is again, me saying 'what' rather than 'who'!_ What was wrong with her? She loved Will, a person, a human being with emotions and feelings, not some object or concept that Jack had literally stolen from her.

And besides, he had not really taken Will from her the more she considered it. In fact, he had brought them together, given that before his timely appearance in Port Royal she had been virtually promised to James by her father, a man that she deeply respected and cherished as a friend, but nothing more. Though, saying that, he was the whole reason she and Will were embroiled in his race to escape the collection of his debt by Davy Jones and the reason why they were forced to trek across worlds to get him back.

Oh, wait. That was her fault.

She rolled her eyes, completely fed up with her mind wandering to thoughts of Jack Sparrow. He was leagues away, caught up in another supernatural quest, though this time to seek a magical fountain rather than a cursed chest, and completely uninterested in her. He probably hadn't even thought of her once during these two months, and she decided that she should be wise and follow suit.

...

Fourteen years ago

Jack woke with a start. He opened his eyes and shivered as he noticed the door to the crew's quarters was open ajar, letting in the chill from the cool night air. He looked across at the other hammocks, where several members of the crew were also sleeping, before getting up and walking over to the door, trying not to accidentally bump into anyone in the darkness.

Bloody pirates that don't give a damn about the dangers of the cold out in these waters.

He was just about to shut the door when two rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away. However, Jack had learned from last time and before he was shoved against the wall he managed to grab the knife in his belt and slice his assailant lightly across the chest, at the same time managing to break free of his grip.

Jack squinted through the darkness but couldn't make out the identity of his attacker, "Take that as a warning, mate."

The man took a few steps forward until a nearby candle illuminated his face. Jack froze, immediately lowering his knife. "Hector?"

Hector grimaced as he touched the thin cut on his chest, "Irresponsible was the man what gave ye that knife."

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked, anxiously glancing around the room to make sure they hadn't woken anyone.

"I've come to stop ye from acting like a fool," growled Hector, "Unless ye want Edgardo to gut ye like a fish."

Jack took a few steps towards him, a look of confusion on his face, "Why would Edgardo have a reason to do that? I've done as you said and stayed away from him the past few days."

"Aye, but ye've not kept clear of Teague now, have ye?" Jack opened his mouth to protest but Hector was faster, "And ye've obviously not caught wind of the negative sentiment towards ye amongst the crew."

"I get on fine with the crew," answered Jack indignantly, "It's not my fault their representative is an unreasonable Spanish pig to whom they only answer out of fear."

Hector pursed his lips, "Well, said pig has been hatching a plan to get ye off the ship and has enjoined the crew to help out."

Jack paused, Hector's words sinking in, before he narrowed his eyes at the pirate, "How would you know about such a plan if you weren't part of it?"

"What matters is that I've informed ye of the plan before the planner has had a chance to carry it out," Hector pointed out vaguely, beckoning Jack towards the other side of the room as he noticed a shadow approaching the open door.

The shadow lingered a moment by the door before disappearing again. Jack turned to Hector sceptically, "So what am I to do now? If the whole crew's against me then I have no chance."

"Ye'll have to kill Edgardo," Hector sighed in frustration upon seeing Jack's face drop, "Tis yer only way to survive, lad."

"And there's no way to negotiate a solution?" Jack asked after a moment, but Hector's expression immediately informed him of the answer.

"I pilfered a pistol ye can use," Hector reached into his belt and pulled out a small pistol which he handed to Jack. "If, as ye said, the crew are only obeying him out of fear, then as soon as he's dead they'll support ye in front of Teague an' yer position'll be secure."

Jack inspected the pistol, brushing his finger down the side of it and determining how much powder it contained, "One shot. Is that all I get?"

"Ye'd better not miss, then," Hector put his hand firmly on Jack's shoulder and shoved him towards the door.

Jack shot a wary look in Hector's direction before leaving the crew's quarters and navigating the maze of corridors leading up on deck, the older pirate following cautiously behind. He shuddered when the cold Atlantic air and rain hit him, the moon nowhere to be seen in the thick cloud that hung over the ship.

He turned to Hector, the rain steadily growing worse, "Couldn't we just pick another night to do this?" Hector merely chose to glare at him, leading Jack to flash him a sheepish smile, turn back around and continue the walk towards the main deck

All of a sudden, loud voices caught Jack's attention and he quickly hid behind some barrels on the port side of the ship, Hector hiding by several positioned on the starboard side. Jack wriggled over to an opening between two of the barrels as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He noticed one of Teague's senior crewmen walk past him, heading towards a crowd of people near the bow.

Several of the figures turned their heads towards the approaching crewman and amongst them Jack identified the dark hair of the Spaniard, stood in the centre of the group. He raised his pistol and positioned it between the two barrels but he soon realised that he was too far away to get a decent and accurate shot on Edgardo. He cursed under his breath before making to stand, the rain already drenching his thin shirt and breeches and making it difficult to move swiftly without being noticed.

Jack hurried over to the mast, peering around it and taking a breath when he realised that he was close enough to make the shot. He aligned his pistol at Edgardo's chest and cocked it, however just as he was about to fire a succession of events took place.

Firstly, Edgardo glanced over at the wrong moment and noticed Jack pointing his pistol at him. Secondly, Edgardo's eyes widened and he quickly made a move to dart out of the way, just in time for Jack's bullet to whizz past his head and hit another crewmember hard in the chest.

Jack's breath caught in his throat as a look of initially astonishment, then sincere shock and finally agony passed across the crewman's features, before he fell backwards onto the wooden deck. As Edgardo and some of the other crewmen ran to his aid, Jack remained rooted to the spot, fully aware that he should be running or fleeing or hiding but his legs rendering him unable to do so.

He just stood there, open mouthed and wide eyed, staring at the bleeding man on deck. '_Why hadn't I missed?'_ His mind was screaming at him, cursing him for having such a good aim. At that moment, Edgardo rose to his feet and turned to look at him, fixing him with a smug, satisfied smirk.

"It was him!" Edgardo cried, pointing at Jack, who was stood next to the mast, completely exposed. Several of the crewmen shifted their gaze to him, horror, dismay and anger evident on their faces.

Jack steadily began to back away as they approached him, holding up his pistol towards them before realising that he had no more shots left and reaching for his knife instead.

Edgardo drew his own pistol and aimed it at Jack's chest. A loud gunshot rang in his ears before his vision flashed white and he succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** I really hope you enjoyed the chapter! Yep, things are about to get _very_ interesting in the next two chapters or so as the flashbacks into Jack's past come to an end and Elizabeth arrives at Shipwreck Cove, so stay tuned! :D Also, according to an internet translator, _chiffons sans le sour_ should translate as 'penniless rags' but if this is inaccurate, do not hesitate to let me know (school-level French served me well haha).

Please don't forget to let me know what you think and leave a review :)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Next chapter! Thank you for all the responses to the last chapter, especially since we've had barely a sniff of Sparrabeth thus far - methinks that needs to change in the next few chapters or so ;)

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters, because if I did there would have been more J/E interaction in AWE... just saying

**Spoilers:** Jack's got himself into a spot of bother (again) and Shipwreck Cove beckons...

* * *

Fourteen years ago

When Jack came to he found himself lying in a makeshift bed in no other than the captain's quarters. Sunlight was streaming through the large windows of the cabin and it took several minutes for Jack's vision to adjust to the blinding light. Funnily enough, he didn't feel as bad as he had when he'd been knocked unconscious a few days before - his mind felt slightly foggy but clear enough for him to remember what had led him here...

He shot up in his bed, suddenly realising what he'd done the night (or had it been longer) before. The images of the innocent and unfortunate crewman, his chest covered in blood, his look of shock as his eyes met his attacker's. He was a man Jack had considered to be a decent one, given their previous interaction over the days spent aboard the _Troubadour_. Jack wasn't sure if it was a mixed blessing that he didn't know the man's name - it probably would have made the guilt worse.

As Jack looked around the cabin, he couldn't help but ask himself what he was still doing here. He'd been shot, he'd heard the gunshot, seen the pistol, been sickened by the look of triumph on Edgardo's face as he pulled the trigger. Why was he even still alive? Edgardo had shot him at point blank range. He should be dead. And why hadn't the crew beaten him to death after realising he'd killed one of their own?

His eyes were drawn to the extensive bandaging across his chest, presumably covering the gunshot wound located on his right-hand side, a circular red stain seeping through the white dressing. Instinctively, he moved his hand to the wound, tracing his fingers around the outline of the stain, it stinging as he did so.

"Didn't anyone ever tell ye not to touch an open wound, covered or not?" A familiar gruff voice drew Jack's attention, the broad figure of Captain Teague entering the cabin.

Jack met the older man's eyes, trying to decipher the mood behind those mysterious, worldly orbs. When it was clear he wasn't getting anywhere with his attempts at reading Teague's body language, Jack spoke up, "What am I doing here? I'm meant to be-"

"Dead, aye," Teague kept his gaze on the ocean outside the main window of the cabin, "And ye nearly were, ye'll be pleased to know."

Jack swallowed, not realising that he'd actually been anywhere remotely near close to death. Teague suddenly looked at him and Jack found himself averting his eyes, choosing to stare at the floor. "The crewman?" he asked uncertainly.

"Dead." Teague answered bluntly, with an element of coldness that sent shivers down Jack's spine, "Blighter was an absolute mess when we finally got him help. We caught you early."

Jack's stomach lurched, suddenly feeling very ill. His breathing began to intensify and he could feel panic rising in him. This was it. They'd kept him alive so that Teague and Edgardo could properly punish him for murdering a crewmember. What was a fitting punishment for such a crime? A flogging? Walking the plank? Keel-hauling?

Teague had apparently noticed Jack's panic-stricken expression and had taken a few steps closer to him, "Yer lucky I'm captain and not Edgardo, boy. Ye'd already be dead if I'd left ye to him."

Jack met his eyes anxiously, "What are you going to do to me?"

"There's no way ye can stay here," Teague moved over to his desk, drumming his fingers along it thoughtfully, Jack choosing to keep his gaze focused straight in front of him as his mind thought up any remotely plausible way of getting out of this situation. He was Jack Sparrow. He'd stood up to Beckett and got away with it. Surely the dumb luck and cunning skill that had helped him then could come to his rescue again?

The sound of a drawer opening caused Jack to flinch, fearful that Teague was going to pull out a knife and put him out of his misery. It was probably the kindest thing he could do right now.

"Ow," Jack rubbed his head, a small object having collided with the back of it. He turned his head and picked the object up, and as he moved it closer he noticed it was a series of colourful beads threaded together with a strangely ornate coin. "What is this?"

"Ye could sound a bit more grateful, boy," Teague huffed, closing the drawer, "I'm not a man prone to giving gifts."

"This is some kind of a gift?" Jack asked in sincere bafflement, inspecting the accessory carefully, noticing that it was similar to those adorned in Teague's hair, "You could at least give me a weapon to defend myself with."

"I'm not planning on killing you, Jackie," Jack breathed a sigh of relief, despite still being insulted by the use of the overly-familiar nickname, "I'm giving ye a reason to get off me ship."

Jack frowned, "This _reason_ being a peculiar, albeit very pretty, decorative adornment that ye want me to wear in my hair just like you?" he paused, his eyes darting around the room in confusion, "Forgive me, but how is that meant to get me off yer ship?"

Teague chuckled, "Because it offers proof of yer pirate lordship."

Jack turned to face him, sincerely believing that Teague had developed some kind of illness that made him susceptible to fits of madness, "I'm not a pirate lor..." he trailed off, the sense behind Teague's words and actions suddenly sinking in, "Oh. Piece of eight, I take it?"

The pirate captain nodded, walking around to the other side of his desk. Jack moved his legs off the bed and made to stand up but his weakened body wouldn't support him and he was forced to sit back down again. Teague appeared to notice this and moved back over to him, picking up his chair and placing it down a few feet away from Jack's bed.

He slumped in the chair, "Given that ye won't accept anything less than being captain of a ship, that piece of eight will allow ye to procure a decent crew and make a name for yerself."

"For that I'll need a ship first."

"Then get one," was Teague's abrupt reply.

There was a slight pause before either spoke again. Jack continued to roll the strange ornament around in his hand. "Why would you give up your title for me?"

"I've no need for it anymore. I think being Keeper of the Pirate Code will better suit my interests."

Jack nodded, the information sinking in, before locking eyes with Teague again in disbelief, "Pirates have a code?"

Teague leant forward on his chair, "The code all self-respecting pirate live by, Jackie. I'd suggest ye become acquainted with it sometime."

Jack was completely baffled by this whole new world of pirates he hadn't known existed. Sure, he was aware of the nine pirate lords, the most feared bunch of scallywags on the Seven Seas, since he had understood from a very young age, whilst living on Shipwreck Island, that his father was one and before he moved to England he had intended on being one too. But an actual pirate code? It was strange... Jack had always believed that pirates lived by their own rules, not for one moment thinking that they were governed by a set of rules enshrined in their culture.

Yet there was something else behind Teague's unfathomable eyes... something that suggested to Jack that he wasn't simply giving away his pirate lordship because he had no further need for it.

"I can't keep ye here much longer, boy, 'specially now ye've woken up." Teague's voice abruptly put a halt to Jack's reverie, getting up from his chair.

"Where do I go? Hector told me land was miles away." Jack asked, glancing around the room in search of his hat.

"Barbossa's preparing the longboat and ye'll row to the nearest land ye can find," Upon noticing Jack's slightly disappointed expression, Teague spoke again, this time with a harsher edge to his voice, "It's all I can offer within the circumstances, boy."

Jack understood. Teague was already busting a gut keeping him alive and organising his escape from the _Troubadour_. It was only fair that he was left to fend for himself in return.

The pirate captain then reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a worn and crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to Jack, who unfolded it and discovered it was Teague's signature, bequeathing his pirate lordship to Jack Sparrow. What struck Jack as strange, though, was the age of the paper and the writing on it. It looked several _years_ old, given how weatherworn and yellowed the edges of the paper were, as though it had been stashed in Teague's coat pocket for many a long voyage at sea.

Jack looked up from the paper, anger and confusion in his eyes, "This paper is several years old." Teague remained silent, so Jack took it upon himself to continue, to elaborate on his assumption. "You wrote this while I was part of the Company. You wanted me to turn pirate." When Teague continued to offer no response, either verbally or by using a facial expression, Jack rose from the bed, his newfound anger providing him with strength despite his weakened condition. "Were you planning for me to turn pirate all along? Is that why you know so much about my time in employ?"

"No." Teague answered simply.

Jack continued staring at him in angry disbelief, unaware that he was swaying with the rocking of the ship. He held up the piece of paper, "Do you deny that you wrote this before I went on account?" Teague's silence provided Jack with the only answer he required. "This is exactly what you wanted."

"What I planned for." Teague fixed his son with an equally intense glare. "No father wishes his son to go on account but after ye joined Beckett I had no choice but to prepare for the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" Jack scoffed darkly, out of the corner of his eye noticing his hat perched on the side of Teague's armoire. "Did you not trust me to make an honest living?"

"I didn't trust Beckett, and I was right not to."

Jack felt part of his anger subside at that response, but his pride insisted that he keep up the facade. Their eyes met for one lingering moment before Jack broke his gaze, staggering towards the armoire. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a white shirt, hauling it over his head and wound, before grabbing his hat and putting it on his head. All the while, Teague just watched him, hiding his resignation and regret behind a mask of indifference.

Seeing a brown coat and sword strewn across the top of the armoire, Jack slipped the paper and piece of eight into the pockets and picked them up. "Mind if I take these?" he asked as he put the coat on, and upon receiving no response, he added, "Thought not."

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. "Enter." Teague huffed, the door opening to reveal Hector, whose eyes were instantly drawn to Jack, standing and walking around the cabin as though he'd never been injured at all.

"Ah, look, my carriage has arrived!" Jack announced gleefully, attaching the sword to his belt.

Hector gave an exasperated look in Jack's direction before shifting his gaze to Teague, "The rowboat, captain."

"Give us a minute," replied Teague harshly, to which Hector nodded graciously and shut the door.

Jack rolled his eyes at the pirate captain. "What now?"

Teague strode defiantly towards him. "Be careful who you trust, Jackie. Remember that until ye reach Shipwreck Cove, I'm still the pirate lord."

Jack gave his father an imperceptible nod before leaving the captain's quarters. Once outside, he was greeted by Hector, who proceeded to lead Jack to one of the lower decks.

"Teague have anythin' to say to ye before ye left?" Hector asked casually as he led the younger man to the rowboat. There was too much risk involved in bringing Jack on deck, since then he'd be visible to the entire crew. It was better to have Jack enter the rowboat through one of the ports in the hull.

"Not a lot. Didn't even tell me what actually happened that night," replied Jack, deliberately trying to avoid the subject of pirate lordship because, even though he had no problems trusting Hector, he knew he had to be wary in regards to the knowledge of his pirate lordship until his position was made official by whoever was responsible for such things at Shipwreck Cove.

Hector took a deep breath, himself frustrated by the turn of events that night, "Edgardo shot ye and ye passed out. I managed to get Teague before ye were bludgeoned to death by the crew. He reprimanded Edgardo for taking matters into his own hands and had both you and the crewman ye shot taken to his quarters, where ye remained ever since."

Jack silently nodded to himself, the pang of guilt at having shot an innocent man dead still playing on his mind. "The crewman... how long did he last?"

Hector stopped walking and turned to face him, "Ye're not feelin' guilty, are ye?"

"No," Jack answered defensively, "Just regret that I shot the wrong man."

"He had it comin' to him," Hector continued walking down the corridor, Jack following behind, "Fer getting involved in somethin' that ain't concerning him."

"He wasn't to know that I was going to shoot him," Jack muttered bitterly behind Hector, sweat beginning to form on his brow as the adrenaline (from his confrontation with Teague) that had kept him going thus far began to wane. With every step he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and a lightheaded, dizzy feeling began to emanate from his head. He tried to distract himself the only way he knew how, talking. "So what are ye going to do now, Hector?"

"I've learned the _Troubadour_'s not to my taste," Hector replied with an edge of loathing in his voice, "Besides, as soon as Edgardo works out I helped ye escape, he'll take his anger out on me."

A sudden realisation crossed Jack's mind, leading his eyes to widen, before asking reluctantly, "Are ye coming with me, then?" As much as he was thankful to Hector for helping him out and reuniting him with his father, that didn't mean he was prepared to share a rowboat with him for as long as it took to reach land.

"Nay," Hector snorted, "I'll jump ship as soon as we reach port."

"And then where to?"

"To wherever be required to get a ship of me own." Hector answered brusquely, "An' you? Where will the winds be takin' Jack Sparrow?"

"To the realms of Captaincy as well, I hope," said Jack as they both entered the main cannon deck. He followed Hector as he passed row after row of cannons, before he came to a halt in front of a cannon on the starboard side of the ship. The older pirate bent down and shoved the cannon out of the way of the small port in the hull.

Jack clambered over to the port and poked his head through the gap, looking down to find a small rowboat hooked to the ship. "Quite an undignified form of escaping." He turned back around to find that Hector had completely disappeared, leaving him alone. He looked back down at the boat with a twitch of his nose, "Oh well. I've faced worse."

He carefully lowered himself into the rowboat, being careful not to aggravate his wound nor lose his hat, which at one point was very close to falling into the ocean. Eventually, he collapsed into the boat and managed to unhook it from the ship, grabbing the oars and beginning to row away. However, the exertion from clambering out of the hull of the ship only exacerbated the incessant pounding in his chest and dizziness in his head. He had been rowing for nearly half an hour before he was forced to stop, his breathing hitching and the Troubadour, out in the distance, growing blurrier and blurrier until he gently fell into unconsciousness.

...

When he woke up from his unexpected nap, images of the unnamed crewman's bloodied chest mingled with his precious _Wench_ lit aflame haunting his feverish dreams, Jack found he was slumped in his boat, which in turn had been washed up on a long, white beach. He quickly scrambled out of the dinghy and made his way along the shoreline in search of any signs of life or civilisation, desperately hoping that he'd ended up on an inhabited island, not some abnormal speck of land yet to be devoured by the ocean.

He was therefore immensely relieved when a dock came into view, though less so when he saw it crowded with British Royal Navy vessels and merchant ships, their crews noticeably beaten down by the ferocity of the midday sun. Figuring that he might need to remain undetected or else face a one-way trip back to London, Jack quickly slipped into the surrounding jungle beyond the beach and remained hidden in the cover of the trees as he approached the bustling port.

He was suddenly forced to slip behind a tree as he noticed two Royal Navy officers walking through the jungle area, one hastily drinking from a small leather flask, something which Jack was certain was not permitted to be carried by members of the Royal Navy.

"You know alcohol's not permitted aboard, Joshamee!" The other navy officer, a tall man with short blonde hair, chastised as the two wandered through the forest, "What are we even doing here? Admiral'll have our heads if he catches us shirking our duties!"

The man with the leather flask chose to ignore the advice of his comrade and continued walking, "Lord knows I'd rather be eaten by Davy Jones' kraken rather than face the wrath of that man, but at the same time I can't say I agree with the decision to have us here at Cape Verde protectin' the interests of slave-owners. They're a foul lot, insufferable to the highest degree."

Jack peered around the tree, trying to catch a glimpse of the drunkard officer's face, his interest piqued by the mention of Davy Jones, Teague's words returning to haunt him.

"_Neither would it be much use if ye somehow persuaded Davy Jones to raise it from the depths for you."_

The blonde man wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sweat dripping from his face, "It's only temporary, Joshamee, and it's not as though we're transporting the slaves ourselves."

"Aye, guess not." the older man, Joshamee, conceded, coming to a halt and turning to the young officer. He held out his flask to him, but the younger man declined.

"Davy Jones," the other man brought up all of a sudden, his face paling in fear, "Is it true then? Does he exist?"

Jack's ears immediately pricked up, also anxious to know if what Teague had told him was just the stuff of legends. If this Davy Jones could raise his ship from the depths... if Jack could have the _Wench_ back, rechristen her as a pirate vessel and sail forth to Shipwreck Cove... he would be a happy man indeed.

"It's said he haunts the seas at World's End, praying on sunken vessels in search of desperate souls what are prepared to escape their certain deaths and serve on his ship, the _Flying Dutchman_."

The voice of a senior officer suddenly broke their discussion and they quickly scuttled off back towards the dock, leaving Jack alone in the forest considering his options.

If there was such a way as raising his ship from the depths, feeling her wood beneath his fingers again, guiding her across the seas as a pirate vessel... the thought itself sent chills down Jack's spine. The _Wench_ had meant everything to him. She wasn't just a ship, she was freedom itself, raw and beautiful and majestic. He had never loved any the way he loved his ship.

Fortunately, he had a good idea of who to ask about such a venture. Somebody harsh, untameable, slightly scary, but had been willing to take his _cargo_ in. Yes, she would help him. Even if it required a certain level of persuasion first.

Jack smirked to himself. He was going to be Captain Jack Sparrow again.

...

Present

Gibbs breathed a hearty sigh of relief once the _Black Pearl_ emerged through Devil's Throat and was sailing towards the dock at the Cove. There was something eerie about the passage, something unnatural, mysterious. He realised that it was the only way to ensure the Cove remained concealed from the prying eyes of authority, but the anxiousness he once again felt as the Black Pearl slowly began to make its way into the opening set him on edge, the worry that her draw might not fit still playing on his mind.

Jack was at the helm, a strange sight given that he had spent the past few days largely cooped up in his cabin, avoiding the world and the rest of the crew. He had left most of the captain's duties to Barbossa, who took immense pride and satisfaction in being able to order the crew around with the express permission of his co-captain. It wasn't that surprising that Jack had chosen now to take his place at the helm as there was no way he'd leave his ship in the hands of his mortal enemy whilst sailing through such a narrow and treacherous passage.

He had continued his refusal to speak with anyone about Will Turner's visit, still keeping that revelation or knowledge close to his chest, and had sworn Gibbs to a vow of silence on his drunken behaviour in his cabin those few days ago that had led to him collapsing next to his bed. He still had his pride and image to consider, after all.

Looking over at the helm, Gibbs noticed there was more kohl around Jack's eyes than usual, suggesting that, despite spending so much time in his cabin as of late, he was still avoiding sleep. His gaze was largely vacant, the cause of his misery still completely undecipherable to Gibbs since he was a master at being able to shield his emotions and pretend as though nothing was wrong. However, having known the captain for a number of years, Gibbs could always tell when something was bothering him, even if he wasn't sure exactly what.

As Jack descended the stairs from the helm, Gibbs walked over to him, "Captain," Jack turned and regarded Gibbs curiously, and to a stranger it would seem as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with the captain (or rather, nothing wrong that wasn't already established to be wrong or slightly askew about the captain). "How long are we to stay at the Cove?"

"A few days, no more," replied Jack in a very casual manner as the two walked along the deck of the ship.

Gibbs nodded, "And Barbossa's to fetch the mermaid tears?"

"Aye and you'll be accompanying him on his errand," Jack announced, not even sparing a glance in Gibbs' direction as he walked off, leaving his first mate standing on deck with a look of confusion firmly plastered to his face.

Gibbs hurried to catch up with the captain, "Me? Aren't you going?"

Jack stopped and Gibbs noticed a moment of hesitation before he spoke, "I have certain... matters to be attending to that require me presence an' which mean I cannot be in attendance of Barbossa's present matter of seeking mermaid tears," he turned to Gibbs uncertainly, "Savvy?" he gave his first mate a tentative smile, both of them knowing full well that Gibbs could see through the facade but Jack refusing to acknowledge it.

"How long will said matters take, captain?" Gibbs asked wryly, aware that Jack was deliberately being vague in his answers.

Jack pursed his lips impatiently, "We depart in three days, with or without any stragglers, including the captains."

Gibbs frowned, "We're to leave ye behind if ye're longer than three days?"

Jack stopped again, looking up at the sky in frustration before turning to face his first mate with a stern expression on his face, "Mr Gibbs!"

Gibbs instinctively stood up straighter, "Aye, captain?"

He narrowed his eyes in what Gibbs guessed was an attempt to appear as threatening as possible "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your duties include keeping me ship ship-shape, not quizzing me on topics completely unrelated to the shaping of said ship?"

"Aye, captain."

Jack looked Gibbs up and down before grimacing, "Then what are you still doin' here? Isn't there ship-shaping to be done?"

The captain promptly spun on his heel and sauntered off towards the captain's quarters, leaving Gibbs to sigh in frustration. Perhaps if he wasn't so damned stubborn all the time then he wouldn't get himself into so many scrapes.

"I hear ye're to be me personal chaperone, Master Gibbs," the first mate suddenly turned around to find Barbossa standing right behind him, apple in hand.

"Request from the captain," Gibbs answered, before clarifying, "The other captain."

Barbossa chuckled and took a bite into his apple. Gibbs really didn't want to know where he got that from - he was sure there were none loaded as cargo from Tortuga. "Well that won't be necessary. I won't be goin'."

Without even registering Barbossa's words, Gibbs nodded, before doing a double take, "Beg pardon?"

"I have matters to attend to," Gibbs simply stared at Barbossa, incredulous, "So ye'll be goin' in me stead."

"Is there anyone here that actually still wishes to go to the fountain?" Gibbs couldn't help asking aloud to nobody in particular.

"We're still goin', Master Gibbs, there is just business needin' attendin' to that unfortunately cannot wait, much to my displeasure." A sinister smirk crept onto the captain's face, "Ye needn't worry, I've told Pintel the tavern ye need to visit and the man ye need to ask for."

Just great. Of all the people to go and tell this vital piece of information to, Barbossa chose Pintel. He might as well have told Cotton for all the good it would do in finding this man with him and Ragetti in charge.

It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Just for reference, 'To go on account' was a more polite term meaning to turn pirate, whilst the Cape Verde islands are located off the coast of Western Africa and were a key location in the Transatlantic slave trade.

This chapter marks an end to the past timeline involving Jack - the rest of the story will solely be set in the present and I promise there are some really important chapters up ahead! I was considering expanding this past storyline I've created into another, separate story, but I figured my time would be better spent on this story for now (but I'm not ruling it out for the future).

Response to reviews - River: Thank you so much for your review! Your point about Elizabeth and Will is quite interesting, I think it's true that due to the ten years they have to spend apart, Elizabeth has turned Will and her affection for him into more of an ideal so that she can cope with their separation - which I guess will then make it difficult when Jack comes into the picture, haha. As for a Jack/Elizabeth reunion, all I can say is _very soon_! :)

Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! Every single one is greatly appreciated! Till next time :D


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **New chapter! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, favourites and follows, they really do mean a lot :)

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters because I am not a pirate and I can't go around stealing things

**Spoiler:** Jack Sparrow at the Palace of Versailles?!

* * *

Two days later

She saw it in the distance, at first just a tiny speck at the end of the long cavern they called the Devil's Throat. But as the _Fancy_ emerged from the dark, eerie straight, that unimportant speck had grown to become a surprisingly recognisable vessel. The _Black Pearl_, her distinguishable black sails billowing in the wind, was docked at the Cove, completely deserted, which suggested that she had been anchored for a fair amount of time.

What were they-rather, what was _he_ doing here? Wasn't he meant to be on a glorious trip to a fountain of promised youth? What had happened? Why would he and Barbossa have any need to come here? Had they come to see Teague, perhaps?

_Or fate intervened._

She shook the voice from her head, knowing full well that she had her own agenda to pursue - finding the _Empress_ and then finding the _Flying Dutchman_ - and this time she knew there would be no similarities with any of Jack's motives. She would be better off spending as little time as possible on the island, promptly asking for the last known location of the _Empress _and, if necessary, procuring a ship to head to Singapore and take back her title. Not before letting Teague know of her return though, of course.

"Are you still so sure that you are only seeking a ship in your journey?" An amused and smug French voice remarked from over her shoulder.

"I had no idea he would be here," she replied briskly, continuing to gaze at the _Pearl _as they came into port, "I was told he was presently engaged elsewhere."

"That is the thing about Jack Sparrow, _chérie_, you never know where he may end up. I'm not sure even he knows where the winds choose to take him, content with the element of surprise." Turning to Chevalle, her interest piqued by his mention of Jack, she noticed him turn on his heel and walk off, commanding his crew to weigh anchor.

She rushed after him, "You know him, then?" He stopped, turning to look at her, "You've met him before?"

Chevalle made an indignant snort, "_Oui_, we met before the meeting of the Brethren. Sparrow has had dealings and discord with every one of the pirate lords, which explains why he rarely visits the Cove of his own accord."

"What was your discord?" Elizabeth asked curiously, following the captain around the ship as he continued to order his crew around in his native tongue.

"They do not call me the _penniless_ Frenchman for no reason."

"He stole your money," Elizabeth came to a halt, searching the Frenchman's face for any signs of bitterness or anger, finding it strange when she found none. Usually those slighted by the wily captain were hell-bent on revenge, but in this instance Chevalle seemed neither interested nor concerned about the presence of Jack and his ship at the Cove.

Meanwhile, Chevalle continued to adjust the rigging, preparing the ship to be docked, "I lost my estate and property to him in a card game in Marseille three years ago."

Elizabeth blinked, incredulous, "You gambled away your estate in a _card game_?"

"I was sure of winning," said Chevalle with a shrug, his lack of shame or embarrassment of his blatant frivolity leading Elizabeth's eyes to widen even further.

"And then what happened?" Elizabeth prompted when it was clear Chevalle was not going to continue the story of his own accord.

"Sparrow lost my estate, surrendering it to the Crown in exchange for his freedom when he was caught breaking into the Queen's private chamber in Versailles a few weeks later."

Elizabeth didn't think she could be surprised any further by Jack's actions but she was proved wrong, "How did he get into the palace?"

Chevalle met her eyes, a hint of disgust evident, "I hear it was by invitation of the Queen herself," he replied with a grimace.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile to herself. She should really have felt just as much disgust as Chevalle did for Jack's impropriety in fraternising with such an esteemed European monarchy, but she just found that the whole story was so amusing, and so much like him. Part of her desperately wanted to find Jack again, just so that she could ask him how true this story was, but she quickly disregarded the thought.

"Did you seek revenge on him for what he did?"

"It was revenge enough when I heard of his descent to the Locker." As he regarded her Elizabeth found she couldn't meet his eyes, whether out of shame for her actions or anxiety that, by looking at him, he would figure out she was responsible she wasn't entirely sure. He appeared not have noticed, however, as the final preparations were being made for going ashore, "But I cannot say I wouldn't pull the trigger if I was ever holding the pistol poised to kill him."

There it was, an unmistakable glint of enmity in his otherwise fairly placid features. Elizabeth wisely chose not to speak any further and let Chevalle return to the pressing matter of bringing the ship in to port. It was only after they had disembarked the _Fancy_ that she caught up to him again, graciously thanking him for allowing her passage on his ship and promising that as soon as she was in command of the _Empress_ again she would reward him for his trouble.

They parted ways and Elizabeth knew the wisest thing to do would be to find Teague, as he was the most likely person to know if Tai Huang or the _Empress_ had made port here recently, being the Keeper of the Code and a constant presence on the island. There was also a small part of her that desperately wanted to see Jack again, and she knew that there was a better chance of bumping into him on this expansive island if she sought out his father.

The first port of call was the main fortress in Shipwreck Cove, a place now left virtually empty and deserted in complete contrast to the hive of activity it had been during the meeting of the Brethren. Entering the main council chamber, the exact place of the meeting of the pirate lords, Elizabeth was struck by how different it looked in the light of day and without dozens of pirates inside. The room still had the musty smell that had stuck out during her first visit, suggesting that there was nobody in charge of keeping the place clean.

As she opened the door and entered one of the long corridors leading to the many personal chambers in the fortress designed to house all of the pirate lords and their crews, she suddenly caught sight of a pirate she vaguely recognised from the meeting.

Hearing her footsteps, the boy turned to face her, his round face immediately piquing in recognition, "King Swann?" he asked quietly, looking no older than about seventeen years, the grime and dirt on his face suggesting he'd spent the majority of his life in this besmirched setting. Elizabeth nodded and the boy's eyes widened even further, "So it is true what they say, that you are truly the most beautiful pirate to ever live."

Elizabeth struggled not to blush at the boy's flattering comments, unaware that she had gained a level of reputation at the Cove, "Do you know where Captain Teague is?"

"He's not here, ma'am," he replied with a dialect that suggested he or his family had originated from London, "Sailed on the _Troubadour_ over a week ago. No-one's seen him since."

Elizabeth supposed that was to be expected. Despite Teague's apparent preference for remaining on land, she guessed there was no way that the father of Jack Sparrow could ever remain there permanently. Though that did still beg the question of what his son was doing here, if he was here at all. Perhaps... perhaps Barbossa had mutinied again. It wasn't out of the question.

"What about Jack Sparrow? Have you seen him?" said Elizabeth, inwardly cursing herself for once again forgetting her whole reason for being here. She was here to find the _Empress_, not ask after the health of an infuriating pirate.

"Teague's son?" Elizabeth suppressed a chuckle that, here at least, Jack was known only by his relation to his father, not through his fabricated myths. Perhaps that was why he didn't visit often. "Not sure. Came here sayin' he was on an errand from Teague and then just disappeared. Perhaps you should ask him where Teague is."

Elizabeth was about to turn around and walk off when she remembered the real purpose of her being here. "Has the _Empress_ made port here recently?"

The boy furrowed his brow, deep in thought for a passing moment, "I don't recall a ship of that name makin' port here, ma'am."

Elizabeth's heart sank. She knew it was unlikely that a ship berthed in Singapore would have any need of visiting a far out pirate cove, but she had hoped that she might have been fortunate enough to arrive and see it docked at the Cove. She would have to think of another way of obtaining a ship and finding the _Dutchman_.

The boy had appeared to notice Elizabeth's disappointment, as he tentatively took a few steps closer to her, "There's plenty of ships here what can take you to your destination, miss."

Elizabeth met the boy's eyes, sparkling green and eager to please, and gave him a small smile, "Thank you." She politely nodded and then continued past him, heading for the main staircase that led to the private chamber that had been hers during the meeting of the Brethren.

...

It had been a long time since Bill Turner had stepped foot in Port Royal, so long that he'd forgotten how beautiful the island was, with its idyllic town and docks and sublime cliffs and hillsides. If you were lucky enough to live here, there was really no need to travel anywhere else, the various beauties of the Caribbean combined to form this splendid isle. But he and several other members of the _Flying Dutchman_'s crew weren't here to see the sights. They were here on what they'd been informed was a very important task.

They were to find Elizabeth, the girl his son William had taken for a wife, and the woman cursed with ten years of life away from her husband. Supposedly, she was here in Port Royal, living a quaint and pleasant life, however Bill could tell from the manner of Will's voice as he instructed him to perform this task that he wasn't entirely convinced she was even here. And that, Bill surmised, was the main reason why they were here. To check up on her, under the guise that they'd come to fetch her for a brief reunion with her dearly beloved.

The four of them had been personally chosen by William as the most trusted members of his crew (since he had spent the last two months trying to reform some of the crew's cruel attitudes, moulded under the tutelage of Davy Jones). As they walked the streets of the bustling town, Bill couldn't help feeling uneasy, forced to constantly remind himself that he was no longer a barnacled creature, with an unfortunate starfish permanently fixed to his face, but an actual man, a human being. Every time he locked eyes with someone he instinctively looked away out of embarrassment, feeling as though he didn't fit in with this civilised race, despite no longer being any different from the other sailors that inhabited the port.

Undeterred, they pressed on through the town, before Bill came to a stop, realising that none of them had any idea where this Elizabeth lived. The only solution his fellow crewmen could offer Bill was the thoughtless scratching of their heads, so he took it upon himself to find somebody in the town that may know. He continued walking up the street, relieved when he spotted a tavern on the left hand side of the street and a busty barmaid shouting at some drunken scoundrel outside. If there was anyone most likely to know things about the town, it would be the unfortunate man or woman forced to listen to the ramblings of intoxicated curs on a daily basis.

The young, red-headed barmaid rested one hands on her hips, standing in the doorway of the tavern and pointing angrily at the old man that appeared to be causing the bother, "I told ye once, I ain't gonna tell ye again. Yer kind ain't wanted here."

The drunken man continued to slur incoherently, Bill unable to make out exactly what he was complaining about, but when he noticed Bill and the other crewman approach the tavern he backed off and fled into a narrow lane.

The barmaid fixed Bill with an almighty glare, "An' what is it you want? Bar ain't open yet, fellas. This ain't Tortuga."

"I was wondering if ye could help us," Bill took a hesitant step towards the woman, slightly intimidated by her coarse and rough accent, "We're lookin' for someone."

The barmaid's face softened slightly and she regarded him patiently, Bill realising after a few moments that she was waiting for him to continue. She tapped her foot on the ground in frustration, "Come on then. Out with it. Who are you lookin' for?"

"Elizabeth Turner," said Bill with an uncertain smile, "Formerly Swann."

At the mention of Elizabeth's maiden name, the woman's eyes widened in recognition. "The former governor's daughter?" Bill nodded. "Rarely leaves her house, so I've heard, after her altercation with pirates several months ago. Father lost at sea - it's anybody's guess whether he was killed by the pirates or the East India ilk." Gone was the harsh, bitter expression on her face, replaced with pity, "Poor girl, at the mercy of those rotten scoundrels for all those months, worst of all that notorious Jack Sparrow."

Bill had heard that, rather than being entirely at the mercy of pirates, Elizabeth had actually led the pirate brethren that had defeated the Dutchman and caused the Armada to flee, but he supposed this was the only way for her to retain her reputation and stature. "Do you know where her house is?" he asked after a moment.

"A small cottage on the western side of the island," the barmaid pointed over towards the hills, "You follow the path that leads up that ridge and it'll take you right there."

Bill nodded his thanks and they ascended the winding path that reached right into the heart of Port Royal's spectacular mountain range. From here, they had a breathtaking view of the docks, of the various Navy and merchant ships entering and leaving the port and of the imposing Fort Charles that stood atop the cliff. He could see why Elizabeth liked it here: she was secluded enough to escape the prying gaze of the world, yet near enough to be able to observe the ocean in all its glory and at the same time long for what she'd lost.

They turned a corner and there it stood, a small and modest cottage nestled by countless palm trees. Bill approached the front door and gently knocked however after a few minutes it was clear that nobody was going to answer. Undeterred, Bill grabbed the round handle, pushed and the door opened to reveal Elizabeth's home to be completely deserted.

Bill turned to the other members of Will's crew, "Check upstairs," he instructed, taking it upon himself to explore the downstairs rooms in case Elizabeth was there or there were any clues to suggest where she might be. Walking around the living area, Bill's attention was suddenly drawn to a piece of paper lying on a desk. He carefully picked it up and read it.

_To whoever reads this,_

_It is likely I shall be gone for a considerable length of time and unfortunately may never return. See to it that this wonderful house is properly taken care of during my indeterminate absence._

_Elizabeth Swann_

It was rather an abrupt letter, to be sure, leading Bill to wonder how much thought had been put into her apparent flight from Port Royal. Had she been considering it for weeks or made the decision on the spur of the moment?

What was apparent, though, was that William had sorely misjudged Elizabeth's ability to remain in Port Royal for the ten years it would take for him to step forth on land once more.

...

Jack paced the length of Teague's private chamber for the fifth time that morning, for once in his life at a complete loss of what to do. He had thought coming here would help his current situation, he hoped it would provide closure, allow him to move on and focus on the real task in hand. But it had only made everything so much worse.

He was furious with himself for letting Teague's death get to him. In truth, he had hardly known the man. They'd spent so many years apart that it had been a long road to rebuilding their relationship, overcoming each others' barriers and feeling ready to trust each other. It had only been the last few years that Jack felt as though he knew Teague as well as Teague seemed to always know him. And that was probably the worst part of all. There was too much left unsaid between them. There had been so many missed opportunities.

And while Jack would never admit to actually being upset at the old codger's passing, he knew that it was the regret that hurt the most. The man might have been stubborn, often insufferable and deliberately vague whenever Jack was searching for specifics, but he had supported him, in his own off-kilter, peculiar, nonsensical way. When Jack had first turned pirate, Teague had offered him a way of thriving in the environment, and when he had lost the _Pearl_, he had provided him with a ship of his own to help get it back (even though that ultimately failed because the ship was such a slow and meek vessel to begin with and never had a chance in hell of catching up to the _Pearl_).

That was why Jack owed it to Teague to find his murderer. He knew that he would need to concentrate the entirety of his tumultuous emotions on avenging Teague's death, rather than in letting him indulge in his own self-pity. It was his feud with Barbossa all over again, except this time the identity of the mutineer was still a mystery.

Jack stopped in front of Teague's old, creaking desk, brushing his hand across the many papers that lay across it. He'd not even stopped to take a look at any of them yet, too busy figuring out how he was going to hunt down the murderer, and what he was going to do once he'd found him.

He wanted more than anything to just leave, jump back on the _Black Pearl_ and set sail for... well, anywhere. But with his crew god-knows-where trying to find mystical mermaid tears, he would have to wait a few more days before he could leave port. Not forgetting that when they finally would leave the Cove, Jack's whole crew would be intent on heading to the fountain, somewhere that Jack was no longer quite as hell-bent on finding, for a reason he was strangely unable to pinpoint.

Jack grimaced as he noticed Teague's guitar propped up against the wall, a frank reminder that this time only a week ago Teague would probably have been in this very room, most likely playing the bloody thing until the early hours, much as he did when Jack was a boy...

"What am I doing here?" Jack grumbled, putting his left palm to his face wearily.

"Ye're putting off the inevitable."

Jack spun around to find a vision of him lounging on Teague's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jack grunted and narrowed his eyes, "You really do choose the worst moments to appear."

"Ye can only blame yerself for that, Jackie." The vision lifted his head, using his arms to support him. "And besides, there's nobody better to tell ye what to do than yer own conscience."

Jack just stared at the vision with a blank look on his face, "Go on then. Tell me what to do. Dependin' on how helpful it is, I may just take yer advice."

The vision matched his gaze with a look of boredom, "Leave. Run away. It's how you deal with most problems. Whatever happened to that noble pirate tradition, eh?" The vision suddenly sat upright. "Remember when Mum died? Remember how fast you ran until ye found that cave, an' how long it took for Teague to find you?"

"I was seven years old at the time," said Jack in a low voice, looking down at the floor.

The vision raised his eyebrows in mild amusement, a smirk playing on his lips, "You may not be a child anymore, but ye're still a coward, Jackie. That'll never change."

"Whatever happened to playing the hero?" Jack turned away from the vision and strolled over to the guitar, picking it up and turning it over in his hands, in desperate search of a distraction.

"You know where you ended up last time you tried doin' the noble thing."

Jack stopped inspecting the guitar and put it back down, "Dead."

"Not just dead though, was it?"

Jack was about to turn around and offer an incredibly witty and thought-provoking retort to the irritating figment of his imagination when he heard the door creak open.

...

Elizabeth stood in front of the door to Teague's chamber, ready to knock, when she hesitated, realising the absurdity of knocking on a door with nobody on the other side to answer. Teague was busy traversing the wide ocean, meaning that his room would be empty. And if his room was empty, then what was the point in being here in the first place?

That was the same question she'd asked herself when she'd left the confines of her own quarters and ascended the stairs that led to Teague's room. But, no matter how much she tried to stop herself, her inherent curiosity proved infallible and brought her here anyway. And it wasn't just her curiosity, Elizabeth also had a distinct feeling that she'd find answers in Teague's chamber - whether it was passage to Singapore, or a ship, or the last known location of the _Flying Dutchman_, she just felt that all of the answers would be behind the door.

But then she heard the familiar voice coming from the other side of the wooden door and her blood ran cold.

"_Whatever happened to playing the hero?"_

Her breath hitched in her throat, identifying the speaker immediately. She could never forget that voice. But one question remained. Who was he talking to? Elizabeth heard no response, but the next word Jack Sparrow uttered sent shivers down her spine.

"_Dead."_

What was going on? Without giving it much thought, she pushed the door open and was both relieved and confused when she found Jack stood on the opposite side of the otherwise empty room, facing away from her, no hat or coat on but looking exactly the same as he had done those couple of months ago.

He hadn't yet noticed her presence and Elizabeth really wished it would have stayed that way, except she wasn't able to stop herself from calling out his name.

Her voice had a peculiar effect on him, for she noticed him stiffen slightly before he whirled around to face her. They both regarded each other intently for a long moment, Elizabeth taking in the details of his face, no different to when she last saw him, trinkets still adorned in his braided hair, his trademark bandana still in place, kohl still smearing the outlines of his entrancingly endless eyes.

And then he smiled. However, it wasn't his usual charming and mischievous grin, but a humourless and cold smirk that took her completely by surprise. It was a smile reserved for only his bitter enemies, and it grieved Elizabeth more than she would ever admit to see him regard her in such a manner.

Jack then turned his head to look at Teague's empty bed, the humourless smirk replaced by a grimace, "An' what is this supposed to be?" he said to the bed with an apathetic wave of his hand in her direction.

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and frowned, completely bewildered by his behaviour. "Jack, it's me. It's Elizabeth."

Jack met her gaze and pointed to her, "Aye!" he exclaimed with mocking amusement in his voice, raising his hands and looking around the room, "It's Elizabeth! Miss Swann! Everybody's favourite murderess."

The guilt came as a wave, crashing over her, dragging her away, though her feet remained securely fixed to the floor, paralysed along with her voice, which caught in her throat as she tried to respond. She was drowning, and this time he wasn't there to save her. He had pushed her in, provoked her. He was spoiling for a fight.

And she couldn't give it to him.

She saw that Jack had noticed her hesitation but he instantly disregarded it and continued talking. "Can't you get it into your head," he paused and wrinkled his forehead, briefly pointing to himself, "Which is in my head, that I'm no longer interested in what you have to say? Get out of your head," another hesitant pause, "I mean, my head, and let me talk to the other me," he pointed at the bed decidedly, "in peace."

The guilt began to slowly ebb away, sincere confusion settling in its place. There were a lot of things seriously off with this conversation, and with the captain, leading Elizabeth to wonder if he was hallucinating again. But surely that was only reserved for the Locker? It had been two months... hadn't Jack recovered from that by now?

Jack stared at her a few moments before his hopeful expression with replaced with immense irritation. Without turning his head, he glanced over at the bed, "Why hasn't she disappeared?" he said through gritted teeth, speaking as though Elizabeth wasn't able to hear him. His eyes moved back to the bed as though there was somebody sat on it having a conversation with him, "I'm willing her to leave, but she's not leaving."

"Jack," Elizabeth was finally able to find her voice, "I'm here. I'm real. This is real."

"No!" Jack shook his head at her, "Not real. I'm not fallin' for that one again." Not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth took a few steps towards him, but stopped when Jack nervously backed away, "Bugger. This one moves."

"This is ridiculous!" Elizabeth cried in exasperation, "I'm not an illusion, Jack. I'm really here." All of a sudden, she rushed forward, raising the palm of her hand, which collided forcefully into the side of Jack's face and sent him reeling.

Elizabeth wanted to feel guilty for slapping him, but she had been left with no other option. The only way to show him that she was real was to reach out and touch him, and she definitely wasn't prepared to kiss him again after what happened last time. Plus, it would probably only make things worse anyway.

However, as Jack clutched his cheek protectively, head still turned to the side, Elizabeth's attention was drawn to the sudden creaking sound from behind her. She cautiously turned around and her eyes widened at what, or rather, who she saw standing in the doorframe.

* * *

**A/N:** Heehee! The moment you've all been waiting for! I hope it lived up to the build up from the last nine or so chapters, and I promise that now they're back together they're going to be spending little time apart! I really hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the next one will probably be up sometime next week :D

Response to reviews - River: Thanks for the review! I'm really glad you liked the chapter :) Yes, there is a definite convergence of characters that will continue in the next few chapters, and several major plot threads will come to a head as well and hopefully quite a bit will be explained (such as what Barbossa is up to). Thanks again! :D

As for the _ludicrous_ Versailles story (I'm really tempted to write a story about Jack Sparrow in pre-revolutionary France, not sure why), the Queen would most likely have been Marie Leszczyńska, married to Louis XV of France (1715-1774) to fit in with the vague timeline of the POTC universe. There'll be more on that particular tale later in the story ;)

Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! Till next time!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I'm back with the next chapter! Thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and follows for this story, it really means a lot! I'm so glad you enjoyed Jack and Elizabeth's meeting, I was really nervous last chapter about getting it right haha :)

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters, otherwise the release date for POTC5 would be a lot sooner than three years time (July 2017? That's aaaggees away!)

**Spoilers:** Poor Elizabeth. It seems Jack's about to drag her back into his own problems. Oh well, heh heh, for we all know what that means ;)

* * *

"Barbossa," Elizabeth stiffened slightly upon noticing the older pirate captain in the doorframe and immediately grew conscious of the embarrassed look that must have been on her face as she turned around, thinking it ridiculous that she could feel any kind of shame over merely slapping Jack around the face.

Barbossa's eyes widened upon noticing her before darting to the left of her, fixing on Jack, who Elizabeth noticed was peering around her shoulder with a partly curious, partly hurt expression on his face, hand still stuck to his cheek. Noticing that she had turned her head towards him, Jack's eyes left Barbossa's and met hers, regarding her with a hurt look that was accompanied by the unspoken question of whether the slap was really necessary.

Realising that she didn't want to be caught staring at Jack for too long, Elizabeth turned back to Barbossa, whose eyebrows had shot up in amusement at the scene in front of him. "Well, I must say I weren't expectin' ye to ever come back here, Mrs Turner, least of all be caught alone with _him_."

"Unpredictability is a valuable asset to have, I'm sure you'll agree," replied Elizabeth plainly, unsure as to how much of her and Jack's conversation Barbossa had overheard.

Barbossa chuckled as he shifted his gaze to Jack and took a few steps into the room, "I hope I haven't... interrupted anythin' between ye."

Elizabeth was about to respond when Jack spoke up, having finally removed his hand from his cheek, which was still red from her handprint. She grimaced, not having meant to hit him that hard. "I thought you were out collecting mermaid tears, Barbossa."

"I sent the crew off to get it for me, as I have an important matter to deal with that cannot wait," the older pirate looked at the door, open ajar, "There's somebody here that'd like to speak to ye, Jack. I believe he's an old friend of yers," Barbossa's mouth curled into a sinister smirk that sent chills down Elizabeth's spine.

Glancing over at Jack, she noticed him stiffen and his expression sober slightly, his eyes fixed on the door, which opened to reveal a tall man, with dark hair and a well-weathered, dark face. He walked into Teague's chamber with the air of a captain, head held high, his jewellery and clothes suggesting that the pirate lifestyle had proven successful for him. Elizabeth guessed that he looked about forty years of age, the seafaring life having not been particularly kind to his coarse and harsh features.

She'd never seen the man before, but from the ominous smile that appeared on the captain's face as his eyes locked with Jack's implied that there was history between them, reminding her of the meeting between Sao Feng and Jack those few months ago when they were summoning the pirate brethren. However, Jack's expression remained completely blank, his eyes narrowed as though he was trying to figure out the identity of the captain and where they had met before.

"Jack Sparrow. I was hoping we would meet again someday," the stranger said calmly, his Spanish accent piercing the heavy air like a knife through butter, his voice having a strangely soothing effect on Elizabeth. He certainly didn't sound sinister, even if his expression was slightly unnerving.

"I take it that we've met before? An' since ye don't look familiar I'm guessing I didn't threaten you last time we met?" Elizabeth noticed that Jack was still lingering behind her, treating her as some kind of human shield that would protect him from the Spaniard, even though he had yet to draw a sword or any kind of weapon.

"Ye don't remember who he is?" Barbossa hissed, looking to Jack with a frown.

Elizabeth heard Jack sigh behind her, her eyes locked with the Spaniard's, slightly fearful of breaking his intense gaze in case it provoked a reaction from him. Whatever discord had occurred between them had nothing to do with her, and she wanted it to stay that way. Jack finally emerged and stepped out in front of her so that he was stood between Barbossa and the stranger.

He firstly turned to his former first mate, "I cannot remember every insignificant soul that I've ever laid eyes upon, even if my face is etched into the memory of everyone that ever has the pleasure of bein' in me company." When he caught Barbossa rolling his eyes, he continued, "And I have even less inclination to even try to remember this," he waved his hand over at the Spaniard stood behind him, "person given that he failed to refer to me as Captain." He turned to the stranger with a smile, "Remember that next time, mate."

The Spaniard suddenly drew his sword and pointed it at Jack, "You tried to shoot me. You missed." Elizabeth saw understanding rapidly appearing on Jack's face. "Edgardo. Former member of Captain Teague's crew."

After a moment of silence in the room, Jack's lips curled into a smile, a smile that bitterly reminded Elizabeth of one word he had spoken to her, one word that had embedded itself painfully in her mind ever since.

"_Pirate."_

It was a smile reserved for his enemies and, from her experience, was usually accompanied by a certain level of admiration. Jack said nothing for a long while, his eyes meeting Edgardo's with fierceness and there appeared to be a silent exchange between them, neither saying a word but both in mutual understanding of something imperceptible to her and, to some extent, Barbossa too, given his slightly puzzled expression directed towards them both.

Jack turned his head to look at Barbossa, the remnants of bitterness and betrayal on his features, "An' you were in on this? This was your plan since the beginning, since ye turned up in Tortuga completely out of the blue," that same smile returned to Jack's face, "You were never planning on going to the fountain."

Uncertainty appeared to flash across Barbossa's face but was quickly replaced by smugness. He drew his own sword, levelling it at Jack's chest. "I was persuaded to enter into a mutual trade, as it were," he regarded Edgardo with a gracious, if slightly forced, smile before turning his attention back to Jack, "With a much better incentive than our own agreement."

"Which you have thus reneged on," Jack interrupted darkly with a twitch of his nose.

"I maintain that I am a man of my word, an' I promised joint captaincy till the completion of the quest," Barbossa smirked, "_My_ quest, to deliver ye up to Edgardo in exchange fer yer charts, which are rightfully mine and can be pried from yer live or dead hands, I ain't fussed which."

Elizabeth figured that she should probably use this opportunity to sneak out of the room unnoticed, leaving Jack, Barbossa and Edgardo to it, trusting that Jack could find his own way out of his predicament, however she found that she didn't really want to leave. As dangerous as the situation was becoming, Elizabeth didn't feel afraid, rather she felt more alive now than she had done in the last two months, reminded of the thrill, adventure and unpredictability of the lifestyle she had enjoyed for those brief months before everything had collapsed around her.

Any thoughts of trying to escape were banished when Edgardo suddenly moved his sword to her suspiciously, "What is such a thing of beauty doing here, where it is clear she does not belong?"

Elizabeth was vaguely aware that both Jack and Barbossa were now looking at her, but kept her steady gaze on Edgardo. "The thing of beauty has a name."

Edgardo chuckled and lowered his sword, "You would do best to leave now, as it would do no good for me to rob the world of such esteemed beauty."

"Such esteemed beauty and _deadliness_," Elizabeth's eyes darted to Jack as he stepped forward, ignoring the blade being lightly pressed into his back by Barbossa. "Honestly, mate, for once I actually agree with you. Let her go," he flapped his hands at her, shooing her to leave, before reaching for a bottle of rum on Teague's desk. "Also, she has a habit of burning the rum, which is never a good thing."

Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing. He wanted her to leave without even saying a coherent word to her? Was that really all he thought of her? _You killed him_, a voice kept telling her in her head, but she refused to listen, too angry at being slighted in such a way by none other than Jack Sparrow. "How dare you?" she challenged, narrowing her eyes at Jack.

He turned and looked her up and down with assumed innocence, "What?" he said in a haughty tone.

Elizabeth whipped her head back to face Edgardo, eying him with similar anger and disgust, "I'm not going anywhere." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Jack's eyes widen to the point of no return.

"Is that your final answer?" Edgardo asked, raising the sword to Elizabeth's neck.

Elizabeth raised her head in defiance, "I would prefer you to stab me in my gut now, rather than in my back as I leave the room."

Edgardo stared at her a moment longer, his face indecipherable, before turning his attention back to Jack, who was now holding a lit candle in his other hand. Elizabeth was completely baffled as to what he used to light it, since the room was already illuminated by daylight streaming in through the open window. "She is stubborn, I'll give you that," said Edgardo shrewdly, not removing the sword from her neck.

"An' now that is sorted," Elizabeth and the others' attention was drawn back to Barbossa, who was still pointing his sword at Jack, "Jack, I believe ye have something of mine an' I'd much like to take it back."

"Of course," Jack solemnly bowed his head to his former first mate and suddenly turned to Elizabeth, handing her the lit candle. She reluctantly took it, unsure exactly what he was doing with it in the first place. He then reached into his coat and pulled out the rolled up map, Elizabeth's eyes widening when she realised that it had been cut out of the main charts.

Jack's eyes darted between the rolled up map and bottle of rum in each hand, before trying to awkwardly unfurl the map using only one hand. All of a sudden, the rum bottle tipped and the contents poured out, drenching the map in alcohol. "Bugger," Jack muttered as he put the now empty bottle down and unrolled the map, sparing Barbossa a hesitant smile, "Apologies, mate."

Elizabeth's eyes strayed back to the candle and a multitude of thoughts rushed through her head, culminating in one singular notion.

"_Also, she has a habit of burning the rum, which is never a good thing."_

_He actually wants you to burn the rum._

Taking advantage of Edgardo releasing the sword slightly from her neck, his attention focused on Jack, Elizabeth rushed forward, thrusting her arm forward until the tip of the tiny candlelight met the map and glided up its rough edges, increasing in intensity and bursting into flame. Anticipating Elizabeth's movement, Jack was quick enough to throw the map out of the window before the flames licked his skin and manage to successfully duck out of the way of Barbossa's furious swing.

Knowing that this was their only chance to escape without facing certain death, Elizabeth grabbed the nearest object to her, which happened to be a tall candlestick, and deflected Edgardo's sword as it came hurtling towards her. Before he had time to recover, Elizabeth shoved the candlestick into the Spaniard's stomach, sending him reeling and giving her the opportunity to make her escape, Jack following closely behind as she pulled the door open and left Teague's chamber.

"Where do we go?" Elizabeth asked as Jack followed her out of the door.

Jack's eyes fixed on hers and she instantly knew that this was the point at which his expertly constructed plan had ended. "Just run," he advised, and the two immediately began to sprint down the hallway, seeking the stairs that took them out of the building.

They continued this for a short while, descending the flight of stairs to the lower floor, when Jack suddenly disappeared from her sight. She couldn't prevent her heart leaping in her chest as she came to a stop and glanced desperately around the corridor, trying to determine where he'd disappeared to and deciding if she should wait for him to reappear or continue running.

It was at that moment that Jack emerged from one of the small chambers joined to the hallway, sword and pistol in his belt. Elizabeth released a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, "Please tell me you've thought of a plan."

He sauntered over to her, in no particular rush despite the looming threat of Edgardo or Barbossa making chase. "This is what you get when you ignore my advice, luv," he replied with a degree of coldness. Elizabeth sent him a disdainful look before continuing down the corridor in silence, pointedly avoiding meeting Jack's gaze, which she noticed kept wandering back to her.

After a moment, he spoke up, drawing her attention back to him. "Why aren't you in Port Royal?"

"I'm here to find Will." The words came out automatically, without thinking, and as soon as they'd left her mouth Elizabeth wished she could take them back. "Not that it's any of your business," she added with equal coldness that had been afforded to her by Jack.

Elizabeth heard him mumble something about involving herself where she wasn't wanted but she chose to ignore him, still refusing to directly look at him, to acknowledge her past mistakes, her regrets, to openly admit the guilt that was building inside her. Was it really so difficult to return to how they were? They'd managed to come to an uneasy, unspoken truce before the war against the Armada, though it was clear he was still harbouring ill feelings towards her. And one question rose above all of the others. Would he forgive her? And if not, could he if given the time?

She finally came to a stop in front of the door that led out of the main fortress that housed the pirate brethren to the small town resting by the shore of the island. She tried the handle. "It's locked."

...

Barbossa's first and most immediate thought, upon regaining his steadiness after being knocked off balance by a plank of wood (which, may he add, Jack appeared to have conjured from nowhere) was to rush over to the window, out of which his beloved map and gateway to immortality had been carelessly thrown. He reached the window, leaning out, and scowled when he found the map teetering on the edge of a rock, still aflame.

That had put a slight pall on his plans, to say the least.

Behind him, he heard several words come out of the Spaniard's mouth that he presumed were considered profane by others of his tongue, and then he heard a thud which he guessed to be some unfortunate piece of furniture being thrown across the room.

"I did warn ye that Jack Sparrow is a law onto himself, Edgardo," said Barbossa bitterly, sparing one last, furtive glance at the charring map before turning to face Edgardo.

"This was not supposed to happen," Edgardo slammed his fist onto Teague's desk, knocking over several trinkets and ornaments that cluttered his workspace.

"Well now that it has, what are we goin' to do about it?" Barbossa said through gritted teeth, his patience with the overbearing Spaniard wearing increasingly thin.

A determined expression settled over Edgardo's harsh face. "I'll order that my crew hunt him down - the island is small so he shouldn't be hard to find. I no longer care whether he is brought to me dead or alive, just so long as he doesn't escape."

"Ye wouldn't want him dead before ye managed to kill him yerself now, would ye?" Barbossa asked cautiously, drawing the man's gaze, "Not to mention that if he were dead some important intelligence would die with him."

Edgardo looked at Barbossa curiously. "The map... what is so special about it?"

"Not so much the map that is special but the places it can lead a man to," Barbossa's lips curled into a smirk. "Includin' one particular place that piqued me interest before a certain pirate stole the map from me. The Fountain of Youth."

"Aqua de Vida?" the Spaniard said, giving Barbossa a dubious, sceptical look. "You believe in such a fable?"

Barbossa's smirk grew wider. "Not fable, truth, which is why I propose an amendment to our original agreement."

...

"Ah!" Jack happily reached under his dreadlocks and pulled out a small key, leading Elizabeth to cast him a stunned look. "I knew it would have a use someday." He placed the key in the lock and turned it, the clicking sound prompting Elizabeth to push the door open, the fresh sea breeze a welcome relief from the stifled air inside the building.

She took a few assured steps before turning back to Jack, who was stood by the door attempting fruitlessly to shove the old, rusting lock shut, furiously battling with the wooden door to get it to close properly. A small smile crept onto Elizabeth's face, before she realised what she was doing and pursed her lips. "Who was that man with Barbossa?" she suddenly asked.

She then heard a clicking sound as the lock fitted into place, Jack turning and meeting her eyes for one solid moment, his dark orbs just as mystifying and enigmatic as they always had been. "A man, nothing more, which is why it shouldn't take much to best him. No immortal or undead beings this time." A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips.

"But what's his connection to you? He said he'd met you before."

"Is this an interrogation now?" Jack asked, briskly walking past her, making his way down the slope of the hill and onto the beach.

Elizabeth glanced over at the small town, which was located beyond the expansive white coastline, from appearances a very quaint and quiet settlement, which struck her as peculiar given that it lay just a stone's throw away from one of the busiest pirate ports in the world, matched only by the likes of Tortuga for the amount of traffic that passed through its docks. Although, she did know all too well that appearances were often deceiving.

Her eyes roamed over the landscape until they fixed on Jack's figure, striding across the sand, having already descended the hill. She hurried after him, knowing that she should have used the distance between them to make her own escape but equally aware that she was gradually being consumed by a desire to be embroiled in one of his mad schemes again, if only for a short while.

"I just wanted to know who we were up against, that's all," she said in a raised voice, still a considerable distance behind the captain.

Jack stopped walking and spun on his heel, giving Elizabeth an opportunity to catch up. "We?" he outstretched his arms, exasperated, "When have _we_ ever been unanimous in anything?"

"I'm only trying to help," Elizabeth offered, pointedly avoiding his question.

"Last time ye helped I ended up at the bottom of the ocean, to all intents and purposes, dead." The last word cut into Elizabeth like a knife, already bloodied from her own actions, twisting into her flesh, her burden exposed, torn between her desperation for forgiveness and her deep-rooted assertion that her actions had been justified at the time.

"Will we ever be able to move past this, Jack?" she asked quietly, all pretensions of resistance gone.

He regarded her for a long moment, his eyes boring into her own, infiltrating into the deepest recesses of her mind, reigniting all of her old memories, those she had kept locked away, hidden, forgotten. He stepped closer, cupping her cheek, leaning in towards her, their lips only inches apart. She felt her resolve crumbling, her barriers collapsing as all of her thoughts converged onto him, his lips, roughened by storms but at the same time soft and welcoming, his eyes, dangerous and overpowering. Her lips parted, her desire for him overwhelming, but at that moment he removed his hand from her face and turned away, walking off as though their brief connection had been nothing.

Endless silence permeated the air as she continued to follow him across the sand dunes, silent, waiting for him to offer her something that would explain his actions, as she herself sought to explain her own. The sash from his red bandana flapped in the sea breeze, wild and free, in contrast to the confinement Elizabeth felt, restricted by an invisible bond, a constant barrier that would always be between them.

After a moment he came to a stop and turned back to face her, though all of the warmness and desire in his features had been blown away by the wind. "Alright. I'll answer one of your questions if you firstly answer one of mine. Why are you _really_ here, 'Lizbeth?"

She hesitated for a brief second, memories of her real purpose washing over her like a cold wave. "I think you'll find that question has already been answered, rendering your question pointless and wasted," she replied hotly, removing the remainder of her hair from her ponytail and letting it hang loosely on her shoulders.

Jack matched her gaze with an equally frustrated glare, "Well, the answer to said question was not detailed enough for my liking so I request that it be elaborated upon."

Unable to think up a worthy retort, Elizabeth reluctantly relented, "I've come to claim back my ship, which I will then use to seek out the _Flying Dutchman_."

Jack turned his head away from her, presumably to try and hide the amusement that must have been evident as much on his face as it was in his voice, "An' what then, you'll follow him to the land of the dead, a place where no mortal soul has yet survived the trip? Should be your place of choice for the belated honeymoon, luv."

Elizabeth knew that he was mocking her. "You said I only had to answer one of your questions." She saw him tilt his head back, looking up at the sky in irritation. "So, who is Edgardo to you, Captain Sparrow?"

"An old friend that was never quite considered by me to be a friend in the first place," said Jack in one long breath as they crossed the boundary into the town.

"And now he wants revenge, much like your other old friends." Elizabeth noted astutely, briefly reminded of Chevalle's ludicrous story of the pirate captain breaking into the Palace of Versailles.

"It's not my fault if they can't handle my formidable and overwhelming personality," replied Jack with a roguish grin, the first time she'd seen a genuine smile on his face since seeing him again. In a matter of moments, though, that smile had vanished, the captain putting his hand out in a gesture to stop Elizabeth from trying to speak.

Her head whipped to the side, glancing around the near-deserted street, looking for Barbossa and Edgardo, whose voices she presumed Jack had overheard. To her dismay, a sudden raucous sound of shouting could be heard from the end of the street before several large, brutish pirates came storming towards the two of them.

Both her and Jack began by slowly backing away, before they found themselves being chased down the street, shocked to find more pirates rushing at them from the opposite direction. In no time at all, they found themselves completely surrounded by pirates pointing their blades at them.

Elizabeth immediately found herself wishing that she and Jack hadn't spent so much time arguing with each other, knowing that the chances of escaping this situation were somewhat improbable.

Yet improbable was what Captain Jack Sparrow did best.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next one will be on it's way soon!

Response to review: River - Thanks for the review! I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter and the meeting between Jack and Elizabeth, haha I'm so happy that you thought it was funny and strange enough to echo their interaction in the movies, that means a lot! There's definitely more bickering to come from them as they try and get over that pesky chaining-to-masts trust issue, and William will be back soon enough as well :)

Please don't forget to let me know what you think! Every single review is greatly appreciated :D Till next time!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I'm back with the next chapter!

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters

**Spoiler:** Jack is seriously one very lucky person (I was about to say bug but then I'd be quoting Mulan, oops :P)

* * *

Elizabeth immediately looked over at Jack, stood next to her, and in his eyes she could tell that he was sizing up his opponents and already calculating a route of escape. "I'm guessing you all must be Edgardo's crew," he noted casually, in Elizabeth's opinion pointing out the obvious.

"That's Captain Edgardo to you, worthless scum of a pirate," one of the men jeered, drawing both Elizabeth and Jack's gaze to him.

"That's what I normally say," Jack said with a pout.

"What would you know about being cap'n, scum?" the man goaded, baring his yellowed teeth.

The captain's lip twitched in annoyance and his eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you don't know who I am?" he said in a low voice, sinister but at the same time composed.

Elizabeth gave the captain a stern look, still intent on finding her own way out of this mess rather than waiting for Jack to talk them both into deeper trouble. "Jack, this isn't the time to be-"

"You're the bloke with the strange walk what Edgardo asked us to find." One of the other men cut in, brow furrowed in sincere confusion, telling Elizabeth all she needed to know about their collective intelligence levels.

"And the trinkets in his hair!" Another, this time a large, European man, said triumphantly.

"Gentlemen," Jack turned slowly on his heel, meeting eyes with all of the crew members, "I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, savvy?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes as Jack leaned closer to the man that had begun the conversation. "See, that's how ye're meant to say it, mate."

Murmurs of agreement rang through the Spaniard's crew members, apparently impressed with what Elizabeth would describe as a self-indulgent display. However, out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noticed one of the crewmen raise his sword, as though preparing to strike. Without giving it much thought, her eyes darted to Jack's sword and she quickly unsheathed it from his belt, using it to parry the crewman's attack before his sword crashed into her shoulder.

The tall, dark-haired man was about to irately swing his sword at her again when a short, stifled scream erupted from Jack's mouth. Elizabeth and all of the crewmen immediately shifted their gazes to him, who was pointing with widened, terrified eyes at something ahead of them. They all glanced over in that direction and, after a few seconds of struggling to understand what the cause of Jack's terror was, Elizabeth turned back towards the pirate captain, who was now nowhere to be seen.

After a moment, the rest of Edgardo's crew had realised Jack's attempt to distract them and make his escape and were exchanging angry looks. "Over there!" one of the pirates cried, pointing at a distant figure who was running down the street, his bandana and flailing arms giving away his identity.

Without even sparing Elizabeth a second thought, the majority of the crew hurried after him, swords in hand. Elizabeth was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she whipped her head around to find the same crewman still stood behind her, sword ready to strike. She managed to expertly deflect his first blow, which was aimed at her chest, but the ferocity and speed of his attacks gave her little chance to do anything other than block his swings.

"It's not me you should be pursuing, it's Jack Sparrow." Elizabeth said in a hurried breath as the man launched another attack which she only managed to partially block, his blade lightly slicing her left forearm.

The man sneered, easily dodging Elizabeth's attempt to strike him in the abdomen. "It's not every day ye can say ye've killed the Pirate King."

They continued parrying blows for a short while, neither able to gain a significant advantage over the other, until Elizabeth managed to cause a gash in the man's sword hand, forcing him to drop his blade. "It is a pity that your dream won't be realised." Elizabeth said firmly, picking up the man's sword in her other hand and pointing them both at him.

...

Jack wasn't really sure where he was running to, but where was the fun in having a solid, unchanging plan from which to work? The best laid plans were still prone to go as awry as one concocted on the spot. Not to mention that without a plan, one naturally felt more able to take split-second decisions that, upon serious consideration, would have been considered absolutely absurd, even if there was a slim possibility that they would work effectively.

Of course, he would have had a fully formed plan had _somebody_ not squandered his 'distract and/or negotiate by talking' routine, that he had perfected over many years, by resorting to violence.

That was his reasoning, at least, upon realising that he had vastly overestimated his ability to navigate through the side-streets of Shipwreck Town, a place he had not stepped foot in for over ten years. He took a sharp turn into a narrow lane, hearing the loud shouts of the pursuing crewmen behind him, reminding him of the time he had been chased across an island by cannibals hoping to make a meal out of him.

Spotting a door of one of the houses open ajar, Jack swiftly ran inside, bolting the door shut and scanning the ground floor room for any signs of life. He rapidly came to the conclusion that the owners of the property must have been out and about - and had conveniently left their door open, though Jack was too preoccupied to think much of it other than considering it a most fortunate circumstance - and determined that he had ample reason for claiming squatter's rights, so began the task of moving heavy pieces of furniture in an attempt to barricade the entrance.

He began by placing chairs in front of the entrance, before noticing a large armoire resting against the side wall. Jack rushed over to it, emptying the contents of its drawers onto the floor so that he could move it, and then pushed it up against the wooden door. Now that he was satisfied that his barricade would at least delay the entrance of Edgardo's crew, Jack looked to the next and arguably most important outcome he wished to achieve in his rapidly forming plan: escape.

Glancing around the living area, which was teetering half-way between tidiness and looking as though a cannonball had hit it, precious ornaments and documents now strewn idly across the floor, Jack perceived for the first time a staircase.

However his senses were suddenly heightened as a loud crashing noise could be heard from upstairs, leading Jack to reach for his sword which, upon groping in vain at his belt, he soon remembered had been stolen from him by particularly infuriating member of the opposite sex. Cursing under his breath, Jack began to search the room for any kind of weapon he could use to defend himself, his eyebrows knitting in confusion as after a few moments of frenzied searching he could find neither a pistol nor any kind of sharp, knife-like weapon, making him wonder what kind of pirates actually lived here.

_The kind that keep their weapons with them to fend off intruders, of course._

By this point, heavy footsteps could be heard from outside, the crew beginning to knock and break down every door on the street in search of him, increasing Jack's peripheral awareness that his time was rapidly declining and that he shouldn't spent so long looking for a _bloody sword_.

It also struck him as strange, though not quite all the way to impending-death strange, that the raucous that had been made by him as he shoved furniture around the room had not aroused any kind of reaction from the pirates who, presumably, were upstairs.

_Maybe they're deaf?_

It was a plausible explanation, another voice in Jack's head offered in an attempt to be helpful, since, after all, what other reason would they have for-

"Mister, what are you doing rearranging Mum's furniture?"

-not choosing to confront the intruder?

Jack spun on his heel, meeting the gaze of a small boy, no older than seven, staring at him through the railing of the stairs, eyes wide with not fear, but inherent and all too familiar curiosity. Jack's own eyes widened at the sight, his mind eager to point out that if there was one child in this house then there were probably even more waiting upstairs. Parents on Shipwreck Island rarely ever did such things by halves, unless they were Teague and his mother.

Before Jack managed to speak, a harsh knock at the door caught both his and the boy's attention. "In here, men! Sparrow's in here!"

"There are no sparrows here," the boy said with a furrowed brow, glancing from the door to Jack and back again.

"Me," Jack blurted out, squinting at the high-pitched noise that escaped his mouth. "I'm a sparrow. The sparrow," he frowned, clearing his throat. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Who?"

Jack's face dropped. "Does my name really not mean anything anymore?" he muttered under his breath, turning away from the boy and opening a cupboard, still looking for a weapon, satisfied that he still had a few minutes before the crew would find a way into the house.

"Are you my new dad?" Jack froze, cautiously closing the cupboard and looking blankly at the boy, still gazing at him with irritating eagerness. "It's just mum said soon I might be getting a new dad, since Billy spends too much of his time with his boat and not enough time with her. With us."

"Billy?" Jack asked, knitting his eyebrows.

"My old dad." The boy explained matter-of-factly, with that childish ease and truthfulness that often accompanied a lack of meaning, if not understanding. "I liked him. He used to take me out sailing."

Jack regarded the boy with a degree of uncertainty, not at all used to addressing children. "I'm not your new dad. Just a passer-by," he replied diplomatically, electing not to go to the lengths of explaining that he was in fact a fugitive on the run from a group of thick, lily-livered curs (and by extension the entire of the Royal Navy, being a pirate and all).

"You mean you're a stranger? Mum says I shouldn't talk to strangers." The boy retreated from his position on the stairs, Jack finding it amusing that it wasn't the presence of the stranger that frightened him but the words of his own mother.

The knocking on the door grew louder. "Not all strangers are bad strangers." Jack said levelly, trying to conceal his growing panic. He took a few steps closer to the staircase. "You've just got to work out the bad ones from the good ones." The boy retreated even further up the steps, nearly stumbling as his legs trembled, his face pale with fear. Jack racked his brains for a better way of explaining himself. "Look at it this way. If ye never talked to strangers then ye'd never talk to anyone. Everyone's a stranger at some point and effort must be made to turn that stranger into a... friend."

By now Jack was only a few paces away from the staircase. The armoire and other pieces of furniture barricading the door began to rumble, the crew attempting to break their way in.

The boy stopped in his position on the stairs, slightly reassured by Jack's words. "Are you my friend?" he asked in a wavering voice.

"Only if you want me to be." Jack let a grin pass onto his face. "But I do have a level of reputation to consider in choosing me allies so don't take it personally if I decline yer offer of friendship."

The fear began to recede from the boy's face. "Do you have any friends, Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack paused, the question throwing him for a moment, but the growing noise of the crew forcing their way in suddenly came to the fore of his mind. He met the boy's gaze with deep seriousness. "I promise ye can ask questions later, sailor, but first," he glanced warily at the door, nearly coming off its hinges. "I have an appointment that I'm intending not to keep so it would be helpful if I could be provided with a means firstly of defending myself and then of making my escape, savvy?"

The boy's face brightened. "I have a sword you can use, mister!"

"Captain," Jack said sternly, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"Sorry," replied the boy hastily, "I'll go get it for you, captain."

Jack watched as the boy rushed up the stairs, his face betraying the tumult of thoughts passing through his mind as he considered how he was going to keep himself and any other children lurking upstairs safe.

He really hated making friends. And he hated children even more.

A moment later, the boy reappeared at the top of the staircase. "Here it is!" he said gleefully.

Jack suddenly saw something flash across his vision before hearing a thud as whatever it was hit the ground. He looked down, stunned to find a wooden sword sitting at the bottom of the steps. With a look of dismay but at a lack of any other ideas, Jack bent down and picked the sword up, looking at it and instantly perceiving the shattering of his notoriety as a serious, wily, intelligent pirate.

Before he had a chance to complain about his choice of weapon, the armoire was shoved far enough across the room for the crew to prize the door open and slowly pour into the room. Eyes wide, Jack turned to the boy. "Run. Hide. Don't let them see you!" he shouted, only just managing to dodge the first attack, the crewman's sword becoming wedged in the railing.

Jack used that opportunity to knock the man off his feet, using the wooden sword to strike him in the face. He tried a moment to pull the steel sword from the wooden railing but it wouldn't budge, so Jack abruptly abandoned that notion and hurried up the stairs, hoping that the boy and the rest of the children were good at hiding.

He darted into one of the bedrooms, relieved to find a door that led out onto a small balcony. Below him was another narrow side-street, moderately busy with women and children heading towards the docks, presumably to greet their husbands and fathers as they disembarked their ships.

Thoughts of how he was going to escape Edgardo's crew began to swirl around in his mind, a united chorus of _'Find the_ Black Pearl_'_ and _'Get off the island'_ at odds with the lone voice drawing attention to the crew - or lack thereof, given their appointed task of locating the mermaid tears.

Jack was so preoccupied in anticipating his next move that he only just missed the swing of a sword, managing to sidestep out of the way in time for the blade to crash and splinter the wooden railing. He quickly spun around and, given his lack of a better weapon, kicked his assailant in the abdomen, sending him careering into several other crewmen that had made their way upstairs.

However, another crewman quickly emerged from the door leading onto the terrace, crashing into Jack and causing him to tumble over the side of the railing, only just managing to grab the wooden rail with his hand before he fell to the ground.

Dangling from the side of the balcony, Jack looked down to find that the distance between him and the ground had been reduced and was no longer likely to cause him serious injury, so he relinquished his grip on the railing and collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap. Not content to waste time, he quickly got to his feet and ran towards a narrow alley, perceiving the ocean on the horizon and anxious to head in the direction of the docks so that he could find his ship and get off this blasted isle. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to encounter Gibbs and the rest of his crew on the way there.

He reached the end of the alleyway and was relieved to find that the coast and the island's docks weren't far away. All he needed to do now was find the cave that acted as a shortcut to the dock at the Cove, embark the _Black Pearl_ and make sail.

But how could he do that without a crew?

_I did it before. Well, Will Turner was there as well but he didn't do much other than complain about his parentage._

"Jack!"

Jack spun around to find Elizabeth hurrying towards him, panting and out of breath. He tilted his head and shot her a disbelieving look. "How did you get here?"

Elizabeth came to a stop in front of him, her hair flapping violently in the wind, her cheeks slightly red from running. "I'm rapidly getting the impression that you abhor my presence, Captain Sparrow."

"No, I just-" Jack stopped, unsure of how to explain that part of the reason he had decided to run from Edgardo's crewmen was also to get away from her. "I thought ye might have taken my advice and uninvolved yerself with my business, seein' as though Edgardo and Barbossa's grievance is with me, not you."

"You involved me in your business when you asked me to burn the map." Elizabeth pointed out testily.

"I did not _ask_ you to burn the map." Jack replied with a defensive look and twitch of his nose. "It's not my problem if you have an indomitable and unconquerable urge to conflagrate the rum, darling."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "You're insufferable."

"Then go." Jack flapped his hands at her in an attempt to shoo her away, but she remained fixed to the spot. "There's nothing keeping ye here. No whelp to save or conscience to reason with this time."

"And how are you intending to flee the island without a ship or crew?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, luv, so I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"You mean you still don't have a plan?"

"We've already gone through this, Elizabeth. I'm-"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know who you are, Jack."

Jack pursed his lips in growing frustration. "Do _you_ have a plan, by any chance?"

"Yes, actually." Elizabeth said with a decided smirk playing on her lips. Jack raised his eyebrows, gesturing for her to elaborate. "We steal that ship," she pointed at one of the small merchant vessels anchored at the docks only a short distance away, "and make our escape that way. Given its size, it shouldn't be too difficult manning the ship with only two of us."

Jack regarded the pathetically ordinary vessel with a grimace. "I'm not leaving the _Pearl_."

"It's our only option if we want to get off this island alive." Elizabeth cut in plainly. "Unless you know where Teague is, perhaps he could help us."

Jack's blood ran cold at the mention of the pirate captain. "He's not here," he said abruptly with a sharp glare in Elizabeth's direction.

Elizabeth seemed to notice the change in Jack's demeanour and immediately dropped the subject. "Well, stealing that ship is our only option then, it seems."

Jack's stole another glance at the merchant ship, but his attention was suddenly drawn to a somewhat familiar figure walking across the coastline that surrounded it. Struck by the realisation that it was one of his crew, Jack hurried after him, hoping that he might be able to find out the location of Gibbs and the rest of his crew so that they could take the _Black Pearl_.

Behind him, he could sense Elizabeth's huffed indignation, however it amused him greatly that she continued to follow him, not taking up her own advice. "Where are you going?" she asked as Jack deliberately turned away from the docks and headed along the beach.

"Oi!" Jack called out, unable to remember the crewman's name, frantically waving his arm in the hope that he might notice him, but he took no notice and continued walking, heading towards a small hut on the edge of the beach.

The man disappeared behind the hut, Jack and Elizabeth following closely behind. They walked up to the hut and Jack cautiously peered around the side, surprised to find absolutely no sign of the crewman. He wondered for a moment if it had all been another one of his hallucinations.

"He was right here..." Jack said, furrowed brow, pointing at the white expanse that lay between him and the outskirts of Shipwreck Town. "What was his name again? Steve? No. Stuart?" he was vaguely aware that he was apparently talking to himself, since Elizabeth had strangely stopped talking.

"Stan?"

"That's the one!" Jack exclaimed, forced to do a double take as he realised that the distinctly female voice did not belong to Elizabeth. He paused, steadily turning around in the direction of the vaguely familiar voice, eyes widening as he perceived the sight in front of him.

...

Gibbs slammed his tankard of rum on the table. This was futile. He and the rest of the crew had spent the entirety of the last two days on some wild goose chase, fruitlessly searching for the man in Shipwreck Town that could be identified as Barbossa's so-called 'acquirer' of mermaid tears with only Pintel's half-addled word to go on.

It was almost as though Barbossa wanted them to get lost, which struck him as particularly strange given that he had been in such a hurry to reach Shipwreck Cove in the first place. Not to mention, that several crew members were acting particularly off with him, and others had gone missing altogether, like the shady and elusive fellow known by the crew as Stan.

He glanced across his table at Ragetti, who was adjusting his eye patch with a grimace. "I can't help but wonder if this quest of yers is really a diversion since it's takin' us so bleedin' long to find this ol' fellow of yers."

Ragetti fixed his eye on him, and Gibbs noticed slight fear marking that yellowed orb. "Of course not, it's nobody's fault but Pintel's that he's so bad at rememberin' these things."

"Pretty important thing to forget, though, upon the captain's word." Gibbs noted, taking another gulp of his rum.

Ragetti drummed his fingers on the table. "Well, 'tis difficult to remember the difference between a blighter named Jones an' one called Smith." Gibbs sighed. "One of 'em is the bloke what owns the mermaid tears, and the other is the bloke what can inform us where the man either known as Smith or Jones, the one what owns the mermaid tears that is, can be found."

"Ye'd think, for bein' proprietors of such mystical property as sirens' tears, they'd have more remarkable names." Gibbs grumbled, eyes drawn to a Spaniard stood a few tables away, shouting to a bunch of pirates in his native tongue.

At that moment, the door to the tavern burst open, revealing Pintel, Marty and another man, short with long, greasy brown hair and clothes that reeked of too much time spent in a pig sty.

Noticing Gibbs and Ragetti sat at a nearby table, Pintel pointed to the man with a satisfied look on his face. "Oi! We found 'im!"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows dubiously as Pintel shoved the man, who appeared to not be in complete control of his actions or, in fact, his mind, towards their table. "This is the man Barbossa sent ye to find?"

"Aye," Pintel replied, folding his arms as though proud of his accomplishment. "Meet Elias Craggs, famed for his skills in huntin' mermaids, of _every_ kind."

"There's more than one type of mermaid?" Ragetti asked.

Pintel's satisfied grin grew wider. "Aye," he exclaimed, "More than one. He says there be over a thousand different types!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes at Pintel and Ragetti before looking to Marty, who had climbed onto the seat next to him and was now helping himself to his mug of rum. "Has he got the mermaid tears?"

"I don't know." Marty shrugged, taking another gulp of the liquid, much to Gibbs' irritation.

Gibbs turned to Elias, rapidly losing his patience. "Ye have the mermaid tears then?"

The man reached into his pocket, pulling out two small vials. "Payment," he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"Ah," Pintel spoke up, reaching into his own pocket and holding up a large, ornate coin, placing it on the table. "This what you want?"

Elias looked at the coin for a moment before grabbing it off the table, putting the two small vials down in its place. Gibbs suddenly seized the man's hand before he could run off. "How do we know they're mermaid tears? They could just be ordinary tears fer all we know."

"Put 'em next to a candle, then ye'll know they're from a mermaid." Elias replied, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Still clutching the man's wrist, Gibbs gestured to Marty, who picked up both vials and held them close to the candle flickering on their table. Almost at once, the tiny speck of liquid at the bottom of the vials began to glow a muted golden colour, drawing stares from the rest of the crew dotted around the table.

Gibbs glanced at Elias before letting go of his hand, the man immediately scuttling off out of the tavern. Before the crew could marvel at the tears further, he took them from Marty's hands, stuffing them into his leather bag. "Best not to draw attention to ourselves," he said upon receiving a glare from his fellow crew member. "Besides, we should be gettin' back to the _Pearl_, she leaves port in less than a day, with or without us."

"Who says we should rush back?" Pintel said, pulling out another coin from his pocket. "Barbossa gave it to me in case he shouldn't accept one coin for his trouble." Smirks began to creep onto Ragetti and several of the other crewmen's faces. "I fancy this should buy us another round, if not two."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crew as they all looked to Gibbs, the promise of more rum in their eyes. A few hours surely wouldn't hurt, after all, the _Pearl_ wasn't due to leave until tomorrow and, even if they didn't return in time, there was no way Barbossa and Jack could captain it all by themselves (not only due to the fact that they'd probably end up killing each other on the way to the fountain).

Gibbs raised his mug, taking it back from Marty, giving Pintel a weary look. "Aye, get us another round in then, will ye?"

A chorus of cheers erupted from the rest of the crew, signalling to Gibbs that none of them would be leaving this tavern anytime soon.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm really... kinda not really sorry about the cliffhanger, but I promise to keep updating frequently so you don't have to wait too long to find out what happens :D

Response to review - River: Thanks so much for the review! Yeah I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, be warned there are some more to come haha :D I'm so glad you liked seeing Jack and Elizabeth work together, I'm a huge fan of reading/watching them as a team rather than being constantly at each others throats so yeah they'll be some more of that later on - I think in the trilogy if they'd gotten over their pride and in Lizzie's case *not burned the rum and chained him to the mast* then they could have been a real force to be reckoned with as they're so similar minded - we only get glimpses of their potential! Thanks again!

**Every single review/favourite/follow is hugely appreciated and it would brighten up my day if you could drop by and leave a short comment about what you liked and what can be improved (I'm always looking to improve my writing) :D Till next time!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** I'm back with the next chapter! Thank you so much for the continued support for this story, it really means a lot! :)

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters

**Spoilers:** I've received a few messages about this and I can confirm that the woman in question from last chapter is not Angelica - I have no plans to add her to this story. This mysterious woman is in fact an OC that made a brief appearance way back in chapter 2, however I'm going to state here and now that the only love triangle that will exist in this story is the canon Jack/Liz/Will one - the purpose of this new character is solely to drive the plot (as I completely understand how irritating OFCs can be) :D Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

"He was right here..."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes from her position behind the captain, irritated but hardly surprised that he'd decided to ignore her advice again. Did he not understand that he was a fugitive, being hunted down by his mortal enemy and another of his notorious old friends? Did that no longer mean anything to him?

She was about to respond when she felt a presence behind her, but before she had a chance to draw her sword a sharp blade wrapped itself around her throat and a pale hand covered her lips, preventing her from screaming. An involuntary whimper escaped from her throat, muffled and too quiet for Jack to hear. She took a shaky breath but quickly sought to swallow her fear, unwilling to appear weak and vulnerable to whatever pirate had decided to threaten her now.

"What was his name again?" Jack was still speaking, his back to her.

She felt lips brush past her ear, but there was something strange about them. They weren't coarse or harsh like the lips of brutish pirates should be, but smooth and soft. Her assailant then spoke, whispering in an equally smooth tone, but with a distinctively rough edge to her voice. "I'll release my hand if you promise not to scream, and if you do scream I promise my knife will become well acquainted with your throat."

The female voice took her slightly by surprise and she could only offer a strangulated grunt in response. Nevertheless, her attacker appeared to understand and withdrew her hand.

"Steve? No. Stuart?"

Elizabeth was about to shout to Jack but her assailant was faster, speaking loudly enough for him to hear. "Stan?" she said in a mildly amused tone.

"That's the one!" Jack waved his arm in the air triumphantly, still not bothering to glance behind him and apparently too preoccupied to notice that, while the voice that answered him was feminine, it did not belong to Elizabeth.

However, she then perceived a slight change in his demeanour. Jack stiffened and then cautiously turned around, his eyes resting firstly on Elizabeth, and then the woman threatening her, widening at the sight.

Elizabeth tried to put up resistant to her captor, attempting to wrestle free of the woman's grasp, but she only pressed the knife further against her throat, though not yet enough to draw blood. Jack met her eyes with a sharp look, as though willing her not to make any split-second decisions, and she forced herself to relax, hoping that he would be able to get them out of this situation.

After a moment of glancing between them, he spoke. "You're not Stan," he said blankly, narrowing his eyes.

Elizabeth was struggling to determine whether his confused look was genuine or merely a facade to hide his true thoughts.

"I am Stan." Glancing at the knife poised at her throat, Elizabeth noticed a nasty scar on the woman's right arm, extending from her wrist to halfway along her forearm. "It's just not the name you know me by, Jack."

"So it's you then." Jack took a few swaggered steps, instinctively reaching for his belt and grimacing when he realised that his sword was still missing, attached to Elizabeth's belt and rendered currently unusable. "Who are you, again?"

"Oh Jack, why did you never take me on your boat to that island you spoke of?" Elizabeth detected an instant change in the woman's speech, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet and mocking tone, her rough accent replaced with an almost perfect English one. So this woman and Jack knew each other?

Her words had a noticeable effect on Jack, realisation beginning to dawn on his features. He rested a hand confidently on the pistol in his belt, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "Clara. How lovely to see you again. How did you get here from Tortuga so fast?" he asked casually, as though striking up a conversation with an old friend.

Elizabeth bristled at his apparent lack of concern for the knife positioned only a few inches from her neck.

"On your ship." Clara replied simply, leading Jack to cast her a bewildered look. "I did tell you I am known by others, mainly your crew, as Stan."

Jack squinted at her, and Elizabeth could tell that he was studying her closely. He swayed slightly on the spot before waving a flailing hand at her. "But you can't be Stan because he's a... he. I'm sure I would have noticed if a woman was on my ship."

"I managed it, albeit not on your ship." Elizabeth cut in tentatively, drawing Jack's gaze. "As long as you keep a low-profile, it's entirely possible to achieve without recognition or suspicion."

"Yes," Clara responded, and Elizabeth could tell she was slightly taken aback by her captive's outburst, "All I had to do was stay clear of you. Captain Barbossa already knew, of course," Elizabeth saw Jack grimace at the girl's choice of title for his former first mate, "and the crew, well, they're hardly the brightest or the most observant lot."

Elizabeth could tell that Jack wasn't entirely convinced, regarding them both sceptically. She, meanwhile, couldn't help but wonder how close Jack and this 'Clara' actually were, or had been in the past. If they had met in Tortuga then that must have meant...

Elizabeth froze, understanding washing over her. She should hardly be surprised that it hadn't taken Jack long to rekindle his love affair with Tortuga and its array of wenches, but the realisation tugged at her, refusing to relinquish its hold. A peculiar emotion overtook her, one that she could only really describe as regret mingled with envy. But what was she regretful or envious of? She had Will, she was married and they would soon be together again. That was all she had ever wanted.

Or had it? There had been one point, not that long ago, when she'd been made to question everything she thought she already knew. Whilst travelling to Isla Cruces on the _Black Pearl_, the mystical compass offered to her by Jack had pointed only to Jack, and for a moment she seriously considered that she might have... feelings for him.

But those feelings passed as quickly as they arrived, and they both openly admitted that it wouldn't have worked out between them. Yet Elizabeth couldn't shake those thoughts from her head, those what ifs that had plagued her since the moment she had married Will, from the moment she had seen Davy Jones' sword pierce his flesh.

Her mind was abruptly brought back to reality when she saw Jack lift the pistol from his belt. He aimed it at Clara, his face darkening. "You strike me as someone not quite suited to revenge, luv. All I did was leave you, which I've done to plenty of women before and received nothing more than a slap in return. Not to mention that our time together was hardly what I'd call memorable." With this, Jack gave a quick, furtive glance in Elizabeth's direction, before cocking his pistol decisively. "So, I say we settle this amicably. You let her go and I won't shoot."

Elizabeth noticed Clara's hand grip the knife more tightly, before letting out a harsh breath when the blade began to pierce her skin, drawing blood. "This isn't about revenge, Jack. This isn't even about you," Clara replied levelly. "If you shoot me, I'll slit the girl's throat."

Elizabeth tensed, fear rising in her chest, but she was determined to keep her expression as placid as was possible. Her whole mind was torn: Jack needed to escape this island and if she was the price that had to be paid for Jack's safety, part of her was more than willing to pay it, even if just to prove that she _was_ sorry, that she deeply regretted the decision that had plagued her mind ever since.

But, at the same time, the other part of her mind desperately hoped that Jack wouldn't risk her life in such a way, that he cared about her enough not to let her die. He was a good man, underneath the dreadlocks and bravado, and she had faith in him.

Her eyes met Jack's, her mind pleading with him, and she could see that he was equally as torn between his natural survival instincts and doing the right thing. After a long, tense moment, albeit rather reluctantly, Jack lowered his pistol, his eyes full of an intensity that Elizabeth had rarely seen.

The doors to the nearby hut flew open and numerous pirates rushed out, grabbing Jack roughly by the shoulders and forcing the pistol from his hand, tying his hands behind his back. Elizabeth screamed and frantically tried to break free of Clara's grasp but her attempts proved fruitless, forced to watch as Jack was restrained and Edgardo emerged from the hut, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

He made his way behind Elizabeth and, out of the corner of his eye, she noticed him stroke Clara's hair and cup her face, though the gesture appeared more sinister than affectionate. "You can always trust a woman to deceive you."

"Amen to that." Jack added begrudgingly, and Elizabeth felt her guilt return with a vengeance.

"Here we are again, Sparrow, but this time you won't get away so easily." Edgardo's intense gaze briefly passed over Elizabeth, sending chills down her spine.

"I did it once, so who's to say I won't do it again, mate?" Jack's eyes didn't leave the Spaniard and Elizabeth admired his optimism, knowing full well that there was no way they could get themselves out of this.

"Because of her." Edgardo pointed at Elizabeth, who flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. He turned back to Jack. "You've already proved that you'd rather be caught then see her die, so we'll be taking the pretty _señorita_ with us to ensure you do as you're told."

Jack tensed and struggled against the crewmen holding him back, a dark look passing over his tanned features. "My concern for her derives only from the consequences of her death, Edgardo." Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. "Did you know that she's Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King and wife of the Captain of the Flying Dutchman?"

"The ghost ship?" Edgardo asked, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Aye," Jack affirmed, pointedly avoiding meeting Elizabeth's angry gaze. "An' to be even the slightest part responsible for her death is to meet a fate much worse at the hand of her husband."

"The rumours then, they're true?" This time it was Clara that spoke. "That you were sent to the Locker yourself?"

Elizabeth saw the change in Jack's demeanour: she perceived the madness, the heat, the isolation, the torture he'd experienced in the Locker, all her own doing. She hadn't given much thought to the time he'd actually spent there, more focused at the time on rescuing him, afterwards wrapped up in the vain hope that he would forgive her.

Jack gave them an imperceptible nod. "A living hell, that's what the legends say. All your worst nightmares and fears haunting your every waking moment - and there's no moment when you're not awake. Your death is played out before you a thousand times over and no matter how many times you try and end it all, your sword won't pierce flesh, your pistol won't fire."

Elizabeth found the brief silence deafening, unable to completely comprehend the horrors of the Locker but finding herself consumed by guilt and repulsion for her actions nonetheless. Was this really what Jack went through?

"So," At once the intensity of his eyes had dissipated, his expression returned to normal. "You can kill or hurt her but don't blame me when her husband finds out and comes looking for revenge. And he will find you, no doubt about that."

There was a long pause and Elizabeth could see Edgardo digesting Jack's words.

"Is this true?" Clara asked sharply, the blade nicking the tip of Elizabeth's neck, causing her to hiss. "Is what he says true?"

"Every word." Elizabeth replied calmly, trying to meet Jack's eyes but she could tell he was deliberately looking anywhere but her. "He will avenge my death."

Clara released the knife slightly, while Edgardo took a few steps forward, looking at Jack. "It appears we have valuable property in our midst." Jack furrowed his brow. "The girl will do as encouragement, to ensure that you do as you're told, Sparrow."

"And what would that be?" Jack asked after a moment. "I was under the impression you wanted to kill me, or was I mistaken in that assumption? I have so many old friends it's really quite difficult to keep track-"

"Barbossa told me of your quest to the Aqua de Vida." Edgardo curled his lip at Jack's raised eyebrows. "Seeing as you are now the only person here with knowledge of its location, I want you to take us there."

Jack paused, his gaze flickering over both Elizabeth and Clara. "Us?"

"Barbossa and I will both taste the magical waters of this fountain. You, Jack Sparrow, will be lucky to survive the trip." Edgardo explained, hand resting on the pistol in his belt. "And if you don't cooperate, well..." a smirk played on his lips, "Let's just say you'll be the one left to explain to the _Dutchman_'s captain why his wife is dead."

Edgardo gave a decided look in Clara's direction and suddenly both a cloth was shoved in Elizabeth's mouth. She coughed and tried to scream but to no avail, the taste of the fabric suffocating her, drawing her into the darkness until it overtook her and she knew no more.

...

Will paced the length of his cabin. The crew should have been back by now, and the only explanation as to why they weren't was that something had gone horribly wrong. He stopped, his eyes drawn to Jack's compass, closed and resting innocently on his desk. Part of him was desperate to open it, to find out whether Elizabeth was still in Port Royal as she'd promised, or whether she'd been drawn back into the world of piracy again.

But then, he knew that by opening the compass, he'd be openly admitting his doubts. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him, and part of expressing and feeling that love was having the ability to trust her judgement. If he really trusted her then he shouldn't need to open the compass, he should have enough faith in her to trust that she'll be faithful to him and will be there when their ten years were over.

But, if he trusted her, then why did he have the compass, and why was he here at all? He had his duty to perform, he needed to fulfil the purpose set by Calypso, and part of that promise was remaining at sea, away from his love for ten years. He shouldn't really be here, yet part of his soul ached to see her again, to embrace her, talk to her.

He wasn't going to open the compass. He trusted that she was doing the right thing, that she was keeping herself safe for him and wasn't putting herself in any needless danger.

At that moment, the door to his quarters flew open and his father walked in, followed by the other members of his crew that he'd sent to find Elizabeth.

"Father," Will's brow furrowed upon seeing his father's face, concern and pity etched into his features. "What happened? Where's Elizabeth?"

"She wasn't there," Bill replied simply, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "She left this."

Will took the piece of paper and unfolded it, taking in the contents of the message.

_To whoever reads this,_

_It is likely I shall be gone for a considerable length of time and unfortunately may never return. See to it that this wonderful house is properly taken care of during my indeterminate absence._

_Elizabeth Swann_

His whole world stopped for one brief moment, unable to think, unable to register the reality of what he'd read. He tried to respond to it, waited for the aching in his heart at the knowledge that Elizabeth had left Port Royal and ignored his advice, but could sense nothing, his chest void of both his heart and his emotions, locked up in a chest somewhere on the island and out of his reach.

He was desperate to feel something, anything, even if it was the sting of betrayal, if only that would prove that he was still alive, that he wasn't yet a heartless wretch, incapable of feeling anything.

Will looked up from the paper, his eyes meeting those of his father. "Do you know where she went?" There was no anger attached to the words, only grim acceptance, which led him to wonder if his inability to experience any emotional response to her flight from Port Royal was because, deep down, Will had known that she wouldn't be there. That was why he took the compass from Jack.

"No, son. We asked around in the town but nobody could tell us anything." Bill explained, before gesturing to a crew member behind him, who emerged with a chest in his hands, the chest that Will had left with Elizabeth, the chest that he had entrusted to her to protect with her life.

The crewman placed the chest on Will's desk with a curt nod in the captain's direction.

"We found this in the place Elizabeth told you she had kept it. It seems she didn't take it with her."

Will looked at the chest with a frown. "Why would she leave without it?"

"Wherever she's gone is not a safe place, we can assume that." Bill gave a stern look to the other crew members, who promptly left the cabin, leaving William and his father alone. "Unless she didn't go by choice."

"She was kidnapped?" Will's eyes fixed on his father with deadly intensity, fear building inside of him.

"We don't know that." Bill said calmly, but Will wasn't convinced. "You're sure that is by her hand?" he said, pointing at the piece of paper in his hand.

Will looked at the note, his eyes tracing the intricate and elegant handwriting that could only belong to Elizabeth. "She might have been forced to write it."

Bill walked over to his son and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Son, you don't know that. What would anybody want with your Elizabeth? Pirates would only take her if they wanted something in return, but if they knew she was married to you they would have taken the chest as well."

"And if they didn't know? If they just thought she was a sailor's wife or a widow?"

"Then they wouldn't have taken her at all. Where's the profit in that?" Bill said with a weak smile, reminding Will that he was a pirate, that he had been forced into this position, to operate dishonestly, to cheat, to lie and to steal. He may have been charged with a duty of ferrying the dead, but that didn't mean the _Dutchman_ was unaccustomed to preying on any Navy vessels that strayed into their path. Only for the crew's morale, of course, for he found no pleasure in ferrying the souls of those he'd had a hand in killing.

Will's gaze was drawn back to the compass lying on his desk. "I have the means to find her. I have Jack's compass."

He picked up the compass and held it out to his father, who regarded it curiously. "Strange. Jack never usually lets it out of his sight. How did you steal it?" he asked, with some admiration in his voice.

"Well, he was preoccupied at the time." Will replied vaguely.

"Teague. You used that opportunity to your advantage." Bill looked at him, and Will could see the years of friendship that had existed between him and Jack reflected in his sorrowful expression as he mentioned the captain's name. "I'm proud, son," he added, albeit with slight reluctance in his tone.

"So, I propose we set out and find her." Will said decidedly, opening the compass and staring at the needle as it teetered back and forth before resting in what appeared to be a south-westerly position.

"William," Will looked up, struck by the severity in his father's voice. "We can't go. Not yet. We still have souls to ferry to the next world."

"We have to go," Will said forcefully, with a slight pleading tone. "Elizabeth could be in danger."

"Do you really think she is in danger?" Bill asked with slight scepticism in his tone. "You've said yourself that she's a smart girl, surely she would have left a sign or a clue that she'd been kidnapped."

Will looked again at the note she had left behind. It was true, while her handwriting and phrasing of her words told of someone in an obvious rush and with little thought given to the consequences, it certainly didn't suggest that she was being threatened in any way. And his father was right, Elizabeth would have been resourceful enough to leave a sign or clue behind.

He just had a strange feeling that Elizabeth's flight wouldn't end well, that it gave a damning indictment as to the state of their marriage and the trust they supposedly held for one another. The fact that Elizabeth had left home without even sending him a note, or even without taking the chest with her, struck Will as quite irresponsible and, dare he say, impulsive.

But, equally, he had to trust that she was doing the right thing.

He looked at his father with renewed fortitude. "How many days are needed to ferry these souls you speak of?"

"It will need two days at the very least, captain." Bill replied, noting the change in his son's demeanour.

Will nodded. "Then we spend two days at World's End, ferrying these souls, before returning to this world and pursuing Elizabeth. I need to see her again, father. I need to make sure that she's safe, for my own peace of mind if nothing else."

"Aye," his father anxiously stole a glance at the chest, the silence of the captain's quarters allowing them both to hear the muted beating of Will's heart. "What of the chest though, captain? It shouldn't be kept aboard."

"Where else do we keep it?" Will asked with some bitterness in his tone. "The only person, other than Elizabeth, I trust to keep it safe is me."

"We could have it buried on a deserted island," Bill suggested and Will could tell that he was carefully trying to decipher his mood. "It worked well for Jones until Jack got involved, and there's nobody out there yet who is indebted to you in any way."

"I would still prefer it to remain in my sight, and if we are to ferry these souls in two days then we should leave for World's End without delay." Will replied with an air of certainty that implied an end to their discussion.

His father graciously nodded and left the cabin, leaving the captain alone with only the beating of his heart in a foreign chest to remind him that he was not invulnerable, that his Achilles' heel rested only a few feet away from him and could spell an end to everything, to both his life and the hope that he had rested upon it.

He felt a twinge in his own chest, and he absentmindedly reached to the scar that he bore, a constant reminder of how close he had come to being just another one of the many men to die at sea and leave their loved ones behind. The continued presence of death all around him had done a great deal to dull the feeling of Will's own mortality, doomed to roam the seas as an immortal being, so he felt as though he needed to keep the chest near to him, if only to remind him that his own life was equally as fragile as any other's.

* * *

**A/N:** Bootstrap, don't EVER tell Will that Elizabeth might be in danger! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm beginning to realise that I seem to be going from one cliffhanger to another haha, I'm very sorry about that but I'll try to upload the next chapter as soon as I can :D

Response to review: River - Thank you so much for the review! Yeah, no Angelica in this story though I can totally see why you would think that - it didn't even cross my mind when I was writing it haha! - this 'Clara' character is definitely going to make things more difficult for Lizzie and Jack, along with Edgardo, but she shouldn't get in the way too much of the fledgling romance as she has her own agenda to pursue, which will become more apparent later on :) Thanks again!

**It would be really appreciated if you could leave a short review letting me know what you thought of the chapter!** Till next time! :D


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Next chapter! Thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and follows for this story! I now have a rough draft of where I'm intending to go with this story so new updates should remain quite frequent! Originally this chapter clocked up a monstrous 6,000 words, so I've cut it into two shorter chapters, the second of which should be uploaded by the end of the weekend :D

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters (just my OCs)

**Spoilers:** It may be a pretty bleak situation, but that won't stop Jack from being his usual, charming, infuriating self ;)

* * *

Elizabeth gradually felt her senses return to her, though her head was still full of a cloudiness that made it difficult to work out where she was or what had happened. A spike of pain reverberated through her skull, causing her to wince, a groan escaping her mouth, still entirely unaware of her surroundings and not yet willing to open her eyes. Couldn't blessed unconsciousness take her back under its wing? Why did everything have to be so painful?

Trying to recall any semblance of the events that had led her to this point in time, Elizabeth was suddenly struck by the frightening thought that she'd perhaps drunk herself into a stupor in one of the taverns on Tortuga, the low pounding in her head suggesting that she was suffering from its after-effects. She'd never actually been drunk (even though on two occasions Jack had tried and failed to get her inebriated), but she could imagine that it felt something like this, which also begged the question of why anyone would _want_ to feel like this.

She carefully opened her eyes, focusing on the blurry figure looming over her. She did a double take as she perceived none other than Jack Sparrow crouched over her, just as he did the first time they met, his eyebrows drawn together in a concerned frown, his dark eyes studying her face closely. She stared at him a moment, her memory gradually returning to her, the foul stench of the gagging cloth still in her breath.

"Elizabeth," Jack's lips curled into a relieved smile as their eyes met, but after a moment he drew back from her self-consciously, his smile replaced with a rather false look of indifference.

"Jack..." Elizabeth trailed off, her eyes nervously glancing around the room they were in, trying to determine where they were, her mind still foggy. "What happened? Where are we?"

"We appear to be in a brig." Jack said with slight amusement in his voice, and Elizabeth traced his gaze to the bars of their prison. "A brig of a ship."

Elizabeth tried to lift her head and sit up but the pounding in her head only grew louder and more painful. She closed her eyes in an attempt to fend off the dizziness before feeling a firm hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes again and met the reassuring gaze of the pirate captain. "Careful, luv. Whatever they used to knock us out was powerful stuff so best take it easy, eh?"

He carefully helped her into a sitting position, Elizabeth finding his apparent concern for her wellbeing slightly disconcerting. "Didn't they drug you as well? Why doesn't it affect you?"

Jack shot her one of his trademark gold smiles. "When you've been as drunk as I, any soporifics tend to have few side effects." Elizabeth could tell that he wasn't being entirely truthful with her, his eyes betraying a slight glimmer of pain, but she chose not to pull him up on it. "Should have let me get you drunk, luv."

Elizabeth gave him a small knowing smirk. "Is that Jack Sparrow showing concern for somebody other than himself?"

"No, it's Captain Jack Sparrow proving that, in order to live longer, people should act more like him."

"This Captain Jack Sparrow you speak of sounds like a very conceited and deluded man." Elizabeth concluded, with a decided look in Jack's direction.

Jack matched her gaze with an equally mischievous look. "Now, darlin', you really are delirious." Elizabeth tried to glare at him but found herself unable to, disarmed by his smile.

Jack stood up and walked over to the bars, studying them intently for a long moment. "No easy way out of here, that's for sure."

"And where is 'here', exactly?" Elizabeth asked, glancing around the dimly lit brig, wrinkling her nose at the smell of rotting wood that wafted from all directions.

"Well it's a ship, so I'd be willing to wager that we are at sea." Jack turned to look at her. "So we can exclude any land from our calculations."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth. "Yes, but what ship? And to whom does it belong? And what of that Spanish captain, and the girl?"

Jack sighed. "I'm just as clueless as you, luv."

"Then we have to get out of here," Elizabeth stood up, ignoring the dull ache resounding in her head, and staggered past Jack over to the brig door, still unsteady on her feet. She squinted through the dusty haze of the lower deck, looking for any keys that might have been left astray by the crew. If only they could get out of here there might be a chance of them getting back to the Cove.

Jack snorted in derision. "And then what do you propose we do? Jump ship and swim to shore? No offense darling, but I'd take the relative safety of this prison over sharks and drowning." Elizabeth turned reluctantly to look at Jack, knowing he was right. "Land could be anywhere. Or nowhere at all."

He then leaned towards her and sniffed at her arm, causing her to recoil and fix him with a look of disgust. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Smelling you." She resisted the urge to slap that infuriating gold smirk off his face. "I'm sure a lady who insists on good personal hygiene when choosing a potential mate has sampled the delights of a bath at the Cove before turning up on my doorstep and nearly giving me a heart attack."

In truth, she actually hadn't washed since being at Port Royal, a layer of grime surely coating her skin by now. It was one of the things she hated most about the sea-faring life. "How is _smelling_ me going to aid in our escape?" she asked, taking a hesitant step back from him.

A knowing grin passed onto his face. "It was going to tell me how long we'd been out here but I see that you didn't take up an offer of a bath at the Cove at all and have not washed in a week at least." She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, encapsulated by those dark eyes that it seemed could both devour her whole and grant her salvation. He raised his eyebrow in mild curiosity. "Which leads me to wonder why my personal hygiene - or apparent lack thereof - was such a problem to you on board the _Pearl_ that day?"

_We are very much alike, you and I, I and you. Us._ The words flickered through her mind like an echo, a ghost of times past, gone in the space of a heartbeat, the time it took to clamp a shackle around a wrist. She glared at him, spitting her words out with venom. "This is all your fault. If it wasn't for you we wouldn't even be here."

"I'll take that as a thank you for saving your life again," Jack remarked dryly as she turned from him and walked over to the other side of the brig.

Oh, that was it. She spun around to face him. "You did not save my life! You just decided to inform the entire crew of this vessel that I'm married to the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_."

"Which saved your life," Jack stepped forward, silencing her. "Because now you won't come to any harm providing I am compliant with our dear captor's demands."

Elizabeth was about to point out that she had never known Jack to be compliant but thought better of it, suddenly struck by what he had said. "So you do know where we are, and where we are headed."

Jack gave her a blank look. "I don't _know_ where we are headed but could hazard a decent guess. Ever heard of the Fountain of Youth, Miss Swann?"

Elizabeth paused for a moment, the Fountain of Youth sounding somewhat familiar to her. She also recalled Barbossa speaking of it, and the words of the man in Tortuga who told her both he and Jack were headed on a quest to the spring. "As a child, in my book of fairytales, in the days before I discovered there were truths to those stories." She was briefly reminded of Will, a stab of guilt piercing her chest, reminding her that she had promised to him that she would stay safe. "So it's real, then?"

"Aye," Jack's face suddenly brightened. "An' only yours truly knows how to get to it now that the charts are nothing more than a charred cinder."

Elizabeth watched Jack as he carefully inspected the prison wall. "And Edgardo and Barbossa are going to force you to guide them there, using me as persuasion. That's why we're not dead."

"Ah, but you are forgetting something." Jack waved his hand at her. "Now there are no charts I finally have something to bargain with. And then we can get off this ship and both go our separate ways, me to the fountain and you to... wherever."

The prospect of leaving Jack's side suddenly didn't seem so appealing to Elizabeth. She'd truly missed the danger and unpredictability that rolled off him like waves, had even come to like all of those infuriating qualities about him, even if most of the time she wanted to club him round the head with a dull object. "The fountain... what does it do exactly?"

Jack's face dropped slightly. "Does it not say anything about a profane ritual in any of your fairytale stories?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Well all I know is that it grants eternal youth and requires a mermaid's tear to work."

"And silver chalices." Jack's eyes darted to her and she could sense his ears pricking up, despite being hidden behind the dreadlocks. "Were you not aware? The chalices from Ponce de Leon's ship, that's what the legend says."

"Chalices?"

Elizabeth gave him a small smile, his state of confusion both unexpected and rather amusing. "You should do your research before you embark on such a quest, Jack. I don't know anything about a ritual but in one of the books I read of the fountain there was mention of a shipwreck, the-"

"_Santiago_." Jack cut in, eyes narrowed. "I've heard of it. But how are these chalices connected to the fountain?"

"I'm not sure, but there are two of them and it's said they can be found on the shipwreck." Her brow furrowed, a plan rapidly forming in her mind. "Let me guess, only Barbossa has the full knowledge of this ritual?"

Jack nodded and a moment of silence stretched between them, before the pirate took a few steps towards her, intrigued. "I see. You're thinking of going there yerself so you can wait forever for yer dearly beloved and not have to worry about injury or death ever separating you. Would not have thought you capable of such a romantic gesture, darling."

"Can you blame me?" Elizabeth asked, with a defensive note in her voice that she hadn't intended. "What would become of him if... if something happened to me?"

Jack ran his hand along the wooden hull. "You should have thought about that before you left the safety of Port Royal."

"Port Royal's not safe for me anymore." Elizabeth dropped her gaze from the captain. "If I had stayed there much longer people may well have found out that I led the attack against the Armada."

"I'm intrigued," Jack began, casting Elizabeth a thoughtful look. "How did you deceive them into thinking you were anybody other than the Pirate King? I stand amongst the pirate brethren and give you the one thing that you've always wanted - excluding the whelp, of course," he waved his hand dismissively, "and barely a day later you've abandoned said esteemed title and bounded off back to civilised society?"

"I had no choice." She and Will had discussed it on the island, in addition to consummating their marriage, and had agreed that it was for the best, even if it initially went against Elizabeth's wishes. "As for the deceiving, it's astonishing how far bribery can get you." Rather than looking at her disapprovingly, Jack's expression betrayed his admiration for her actions, and Elizabeth felt a twinge of pride at having impressed him.

He stalked towards her, in the way an animal might creep towards its prey. "Said _persuasion_ at the point of a sword or something else entirely, darling?"

She felt herself flush at the way he lingered on the word, reminding her of their repartee and wordplay aboard the _Pearl_, and Jack's lips curled into a smile, noticing her reaction_._ She quickly recovered and sent him a harsh glare. "Bribery in the honest sense of the word, Jack. But my cover story was shaky at best. I was fortunate that there were few survivors from the battle with the _Endeavour_."

Elizabeth saw Jack open his mouth as though to respond but he stopped, his eyes narrowing as though he'd heard a noise.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked as the captain walked over to the bars, but her question was answered when, moments later, footsteps could be heard growing closer to them and the figure of Edgardo, followed closely behind by two large crewmen, emerged and came to a stop in front of the brig.

"_Señor_, this is really no way to treat your guests." Jack said in a casual tone, sauntering towards the bars.

"You appear to be somewhat confused between guests and prisoners, Sparrow." Edgardo replied with a grin, baring his yellowed teeth. "Just because you were treated with leniency last time you were here does not afford you the same privileges this time around."

Elizabeth looked to Jack, struck by the Spaniard's words. Jack had been here before? The pirate's face remained impassive, uncaring almost.

"I don't count being tossed into a dinghy while injured as particularly lenient." Jack took a step forward. "And if that's yer only qualm with me then yer need for revenge seems a little overwrought, if I do say so meself."

Edgardo's face twitched ever so slightly and Elizabeth could sense the anger building in those dark eyes of his, capable of matching Jack's for intensity. He cast a look in the direction of one of the crewmen, who pulled out a key and unlocked the door, before the other grabbed Jack by the shoulder and shoved him out of the brig.

Elizabeth hurried forward, only reaching the brig door as it slammed shut. "What are you doing? Where are you taking him?"

Edgardo stepped forward until he was only inches away from the brig door, his breath hot on Elizabeth's face. "We need a heading. But don't worry, _señora_, as long as he's acquiescent you won't feel a thing." He reached his hand through the bars but Elizabeth pulled back before he was able to clasp her face with his bony, calloused hands.

"No need to fret, luv." Jack said with an unconcerned smile as the two thuggish pirates grabbed him and tied his arms behind his back. "Compliancy, eh?"

Elizabeth briefly met Jack's eyes and his expression went some way to reassure her, even though it wasn't her own safety that she feared for. She shot Edgardo a look of disgust. "What has he ever done to you?"

As soon as the words left her mouth she knew that she was probably placing too much faith in Jack, and she was proved right when Edgardo's mouth contorted into a sneer and he let out a laugh. "A great too many things. Were you aware that he once murdered an innocent man in cold blood? A friend of mine, in fact."

Elizabeth tensed, a shiver running up her spine. A lingering doubt planted itself in her mind but she shrugged it off, meeting the Spaniard with a fierce gaze, knowing that she shouldn't trust his word. Jack was a good man and she had seen him forsake the innocent before. "I'm sure he deserved it."

She cast a furtive look behind Edgardo, searching for Jack's reassuring and familiar face but soon realised that he must have already been taken above deck.

"It amuses me that you speak of Jack Sparrow as though he's your husband." Edgardo smirked, causing Elizabeth's blood to run cold. "Are you sure you married the right captain?" He drew back from the prison bars and walked off, letting out a low, sinister laugh as he did so.

Elizabeth took a step back, eyes wide, mouth open. There wasn't... She didn't... He... wouldn't. There was no reason to even suggest such a thing. The thought was positively ludicrous! She loved Will, she'd _married _Will, and the only reason why she was here was because she'd been embroiled in one of Jack's schemes, not because she'd gone by... choice.

But, given the choice, would she really give this up? Could she give any of this up? It scared her, how much she secretly enjoyed being in his company. She'd spent many days stuck on Port Royal, thinking about him, where he might be, what treasure he might be seeking, what new adventure he'd got himself into, and that had always been accompanied by a pang of jealousy that she couldn't be there too.

But, as Jack cleverly pointed out, it was all just naive curiosity. And even if she... if she had felt _anything_, it was clear that he didn't return the sentiment. As he said, his concern was only in her death and not allowing that to happen, for his own selfish reasons. He was a pirate, and pirates could only focus on surviving from one day to another.

Besides, she couldn't quite imagine Jack ever being in love with anyone that wasn't himself, the _Pearl _or the sea.

But, there had been that moment, on the beach, when he'd leaned close to her, embraced her, almost kissed her, and she strangely felt not even the slightest bit ashamed of her reaction in that moment. It had felt right, normal even, for him to be that close, to caress her cheek as he had done for that brief second, before everything had returned to how it had been before.

And ever since, there had been a deep, though almost unnoticeable, ache in her soul. It was as though he had begun to awaken a part of her that had long remained sealed off, unreachable, but had withdrawn before she could fully comprehend the change, leaving her stuck in an almost unconscious dream-state, half-way between fantasy and reality.

She cursed inwardly. She couldn't do this to herself, she couldn't make herself doubt in her marriage, doubt in Will. Just as he had been charged to ferry the souls of the dead to the spirit world, she had been charged with waiting faithfully until he could return in ten years time. She couldn't let him down, the ghastly image of Davy Jones' monstrous face flashing across her eyes, reminding her of the potential consequences of a broken heart.

Jack was just a passing fancy. There was nothing meaningful to it, at least on his side there wasn't. She sighed. He had probably hardly thought of her until she'd turned up at the Cove, barging into Teague's quarters unannounced. He had no reason to think of her. He had Tortuga, he had the _Black Pearl_, he had any available wench he so desired, including that mysterious girl called Clara, though she could hardly decipher what he had seen in her, other than another dangerous woman who had eventually turned on him. He seemed to be drawn to that kind of woman, she thought with a smile.

Leaning against the wooden hull of the ship, Elizabeth let herself sink to the ground, fully aware that she could do nothing but wait until Jack was returned to the brig. He was her only hope of getting out of here alive, yet she wasn't worried. She knew he would succeed. He always did. There was no reason to expect any different this time around.

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will be up at the weekend :D

Response to review: River - Thank you so much for the review! Aww thank you, I'm so glad you think that the introduction of Clara worked well - yeah back in chapter 3 there was no need to pay her any real attention haha but she gets a little bit more important later on xDD I'm so glad you're enjoying this story and _Uncharted Waters_ as well, it really means a lot :D

All reviews are greatly appreciated :) Till next time!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Hi everyone, here's the next chapter! As I mentioned last chapter, this was originally intended to be part of chapter 14 but it got quite long so I thought I'd split it into two separate chapters - that's why I'm updating so fast aha xD

Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters

**Spoilers: **Jack might just have a plan... perhaps even 12% of a plan (I do apologise for that shameless Guardians of the Galaxy reference :P)

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Barbossa grabbed the spokes of the helm angrily, almost violently, as he perceived the shape of the _Troubadour_ sailing a distance in front, leading them to the Fountain of Youth. He looked down at the crew working hard on deck, none of them audacious enough to confront their captain after he had forcefully ordered them to set sail from the Cove over a day ago, few of them brave enough to ask about the whereabouts of a certain wily knave.

If one thing was certain, Jack Sparrow certainly had a knack for getting himself out of the tightest of spots. Barbossa thought that his fate was sealed, certain that by handing him over to Edgardo, as had been not-so-politely requested before they made port in Tortuga to fetch him, he would finally meet his doom.

But no, Jack Sparrow once again proved that nothing was ever certain when it came to him, and not only burned the map that could lead them to the fountain, but forced Barbossa to have to cooperate with the degenerate and savage Spaniard in order to complete his quest or abandon his dream of eternal youth altogether.

At least their loot had been properly returned to them before either of the ships had left Shipwreck Cove, it having been taken by Edgardo and the _Troubadour_ as suitable persuasion for the _Black Pearl _to change course and return to Tortuga to fetch Jack Sparrow. For Barbossa, the indignity of being intimidated by another pirate was the worst part of all, and now he had to work with that same pirate in order to reach the fountain. Barbossa was no lackey, not for any man.

Looking to the starboard staircase, the sun gradually rising higher in the morning sky, Barbossa scowled when he noticed Mr Gibbs ascend and walk over to him, distrust and confusion marking his features.

"Cap'n Barbossa," he began, with the right level of cordiality that wouldn't lead to a punishment from the acrimonious captain, but with enough bitterness to warrant Barbossa's attention, "The crew have some unanswered questions they'd like ye to answer."

Barbossa turned to face the pirate, Jack's loyal first mate, and sneered. "Are they the questions of the group collectively, or just yer own opinion, Master Gibbs?"

Gibbs retained a cold, stony expression as he spoke. "Does it matter? The captain is bound by the code to show a level of transparency when addressing his crew, particularly when it pertains to the ship's hierarchy or its intended destination."

Barbossa raised his eyebrows. "What questions would ye like me to answer then?"

"Firstly, we want to know what happened to Jack, and secondly, why we appear to be followin' that ship," Gibbs pointed to the _Troubadour_ in the distance.

Barbossa let out a hollow laugh under his breath. "Master Gibbs, Jack Sparrow _is_ the reason we be pursuing that ship."

He noticed Gibbs' brow furrow in confusion, giving the _Troubadour_ a long glance. "Why is Jack there and not on the _Pearl_?" he asked after a moment.

"As a premeditated condition of our quest to the fountain, Master Gibbs." Barbossa tilted the helm a few degrees starboard, before glancing over at Gibbs, who still looked as confused as ever.

He sighed, before relating to Jack's first mate a brief account of the events at the Cove, including Jack burning the map and being hunted by Edgardo's men and the consequent deal made between him and the Spaniard, but conveniently forgetting to mention the fact that it was his own fault that Jack had ended up in the arms of the Spaniard in the first place.

After explaining it to Gibbs, the man was silent for a moment, apparently digesting the information, before placing his hand on the railing, as though to support the extra information that had entered his skull. "Let me get this straight, Barbossa, so Jack is to provide the heading to the fountain on that ship," he pointed at the Troubadour, "And we're to follow behind, each taking an equal share in the spoils."

"Aye," Barbossa assented through gritted teeth, growing tired of Gibbs' questioning. "Though to what extent we take equal spoils of the fountain's waters is up to each pirate's own discretion," he added with a smirk.

"Anythin' else ye've failed to tell me, cap'n?" Gibbs asked with a trace of anger in his tone.

Barbossa paused before giving his answer. "Other than the fact that the Pirate King is also in attendance, in the ship's brig, nay."

He smirked as Gibbs was forced to do a double take on what he'd heard. "Elizabeth? What's she doin' here?"

Barbossa took one hand of the spokes and turned to face Jack's first mate. "I don't really care, Gibbs, so if ye'll excuse me," he gave the man a stern glare and turned back to the wheel.

A few, peaceful moments of silence passed before Barbossa heard Gibbs speak again. "I'm surprised ye've not asked for the mermaid tears yet, captain."

He rolled his eyes, still fixed on the horizon. "All in good time, Master Gibbs."

...

Jack was forced to squint as he was shoved up on deck, the bright morning sun coming as quite a shock to his senses in comparison to the perpetual semi-darkness enjoyed below deck. He'd already managed to untie his hands from the rope secured in place by the two brutish crewmen hauling him up to the helm, but there was no point in trying to resist. Even if he broke free, there was nowhere to go apart from overboard, and glancing around the horizon he noted that there was no land in sight to be washed up on.

His eyes briefly met those of Clara, the Tortugan wench he'd spent many a pleasurable night with over the last few weeks, as he was pushed up the stairs leading to the helm, straw hat still obscuring most of her face and her chestnut hair wrapped in a tight braid that reached her shoulders. Jack was immediately struck by how plain she appeared without any paint to accentuate her features, which went a long way to explain why she was seemingly able to pose as a man for such a length of time and go largely unnoticed.

Her brow furrowed as he passed her, as though she was attempting to figure something out, or figure him out, he couldn't be sure which. If he was honest, he really didn't give a damn about the woman. She was probably just some vengeful harlot who'd probably thrown her lot in with Edgardo in the hope of getting revenge on him for leaving her on that wretched pit of an island.

_But then why did she sneak onto your ship disguised as a man - if she wanted revenge, why not just kill you herself? She certainly doesn't strike me as the cowardly type._

Jack pushed the voice to the back of his head. Now was not the time. There were far more pressing matters at hand, such as how on earth he was going to get off-

His eyes widened as he perceived the shape of his beloved _Pearl_ off the horizon, following dutifully behind the _Troubadour_. So Barbossa and Edgardo had settled upon another agreement, presumably to each take the spoils of the fountain. Jack fought to suppress a snort. Barbossa seemed awfully desperate to taste those magical waters, so much that he'd apparently made a deal with Edgardo, a man not known for his sense of fair play or leniency. Bargaining with the devil would have made for a more honest pact, and Jack knew all about Faustian pacts and how troublesome they could be.

Perhaps if he managed to break free of Edgardo's crewmen, Jack could then jump overboard and be pulled aboard the _Pearl_, and then they could sail off into the distance, outrun the _Troubadour_ and head to the fountain by themselves, leaving the Spaniard behind.

Except there was one problem. Elizabeth Swann. Why did that woman have a habit of turning up wherever she wasn't wanted? And why did she insist on making his life harder than it needed to be? Before her everything had been easy for him, but her kiss had left an inextinguishable mark that, even after two months, had not faded. She haunted both his dreams and his deliriums, and was generally a perpetual thorn in his side. No matter how many wenches he bedded to try and rid her from his mind, she remained, the taste of her lips a deadly poison that had him addicted.

She'd chosen the whelp. She'd chosen bloody stupid Will. And why did that bother him still, even after all this time? She murdered him! He should hate her, he should want to kill her and get revenge, like he had on Barbossa. But he wanted none of those things, for he still _bloody wanted her_.

He couldn't leave her behind and he knew that. At least if she was around him then she would be safe, oras safe as permits when one is in the company of a notorious and handsome pirate, for more reasons than smirked inwardly to himself. There was definitely more than one reason why she had insisted on remaining in his company when she could so easily have hopped on the nearest ship from the Cove to Singapore to get Sao Feng's ship back.

He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the crewmen come to a stop on the upper deck, Edgardo standing smugly by the helm of Teague's ship. "So, Jack, how about that heading?" he said with a sneer.

Jack scanned the clear, blue horizon with a blank look on his face, relaxing back into his tried and tested tactic of playing the fool. "It would firstly help if I knew where I was, mate."

Edgardo gestured to the desk, positioned behind the helm and covered in an assortment of maps and charts. Jack rolled his eyes as the two crewmen shoved him over to the desk, still holding his arms behind his back. He glanced down at the maps, studying them for a long moment and concluding that they were at least six days away from the fountain, and three days away from the Cove. There were some other islands dotted around mainland Florida, and Jack would be willing to wager that Ponce de Leon's shipwreck was somewhere around there too.

Perhaps Jack could incite a mutiny amongst the crew, most of which had probably been manipulated into opposing Captain Teague by Edgardo, and get them to turn around and head back to Shipwreck Cove? He glanced around at the crewmen that surrounded the helm, coming to the swift conclusion that none of them seemed particularly friendly or familiar to him. Maybe Edgardo had replaced Teague's crew after the mutiny?

"Well then, Sparrow? I hope you haven't forgotten the path to the fountain already." Jeering and laughing could be heard from behind him, much of the crew gathered on the stairs and deck and watching him.

Jack looked up, noticing in his periphery that Clara had joined them by the helm, and he was instantly struck by how ill-at-ease she seemed aboard a ship - she wasn't a natural sailor and had little experience aboard ships, that much was certain. She was watching him intently, as though her whole being was dependent upon the heading he was about to provide.

An idea lodged itself into his mind. This was something he could work with. Exploit any sentiment she may feel for him and bring her over to his side. "I'm curious." He levelled his tone, knowing that he needed to play this slyly. "How did you manipulate the crew so far as to stage a mutiny against Teague?"

Edgardo pursed his lips in a thin line, taken aback by his bluntness. "In a similar way to how Barbossa once staged a mutiny against you, I believe."

"Ah, but you're forgetting something, _señor_." Jack managed to wrestle an arm free from the crewman's grasp, waving it in Edgardo's general direction. "Barbossa was a part of my crew, whereas I believe you have not been a member of Teague's crew for several years."

"What is the purpose of asking me this?" Edgardo asked with considerable irritation in his tone.

"Not to mention," Jack continued, undeterred. He just needed to provoke a severe enough reaction from the Spaniard to plant a seed of doubt in the young strumpet's head. Hit a nerve. Everyone who knew of Edgardo Ruiz knew of his infamous temper. "That Barbossa was so kind as to drop me off on an island, a liberty that was not extended to dear ol' Captain Teague."

"You know where he is?" Edgardo took a few steps closer to Jack, eyebrows raised.

Jack returned the pirate's gaze, letting part of his anger for the man rise to the surface. Now here was a man he wanted revenge on. "Dead."

"No." Edgardo was now only a few inches away from him. "He's where he belongs."

"I see how it is." Jack let a smirk pass onto his face, hiding his deep revulsion and disgust. "Envy is a truly pitiful sin, or so I'm told."

At that moment, something appeared to snap in the Spaniard's mind and he swung at Jack, his fist colliding into his face and sending him reeling. The two crewmen grabbed him before he was forced to suffer the indecency of falling to the ground and hauled him back to his feet. Turning back to face the Spaniard, Jack grimaced as he felt a thick, warm substance enter his mouth that he figured was probably his own blood.

He hadn't expected the Spaniard to hit him _that _hard.

"Your arrogance astonishes me, Jack Sparrow." Jack was going to politely point out the captain part of his name but Edgardo was faster. "To think that I could ever be envious of you..."

Jack pretended to look insulted. "What's not to be envious of?"

Edgardo's face twitched and before Jack knew it his fist had collided into his stomach, winding him. Jack's breaths came out in forced gasps, his head spinning, eyes fixed on the ground. One of the crewmen tugged on the long braid that extended from his bandana down the back of his head and roughly pulled his head up to meet the Spaniard's cold gaze. "A heading, Sparrow, _por favor_."

Jack gritted his teeth, beginning to feel the sting of various bruises forming on his face. "We can reach the fountain in no more than six days, providing the wind is on our side and we continue in a south to south-westerly direction," he replied, as though reciting some dull hymn or scripture. "Ponce de Leon's ship will most likely be somewhere in that direction too." _Even though I've only just learnt of its existence and its apparent yet unclear relevance to the fountain,_ he added wryly to himself, wary of saying that part out loud. He needed to keep some cards close to his chest, after all.

The Spaniard smirked, leaning in towards his face. "See, Jack, not too difficult now, is it?"

Jack returned the man's false smile, imagining that he probably looked quite a sight with blood trailing from his nose down to his chin. His eyes briefly darted to Clara and resisted a smirk at her horrified reaction. "If that is all... captain, I would request to be returned to my guest cabin." He gave a decided look at the two crewmen still tugging his arms behind his back and holding his head upright.

"Disrespect is something I don't tolerate, _mocoso_. I see you've hardly changed from the twenty-something boy that crewed on this ship fourteen years ago."

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes or display any other behaviour that could be rightly misconstrued as boredom. "Technically, a lot of things have changed since then-"

The back of Edgardo's hand suddenly collided into Jack's other cheek, the rings on his fingers cutting into his skin. Jack's face jerked to the side and he spat blood.

_Bloody hell,_ he thought wryly to himself,_ I probably look an absolute mess._

"Take him back to the brig."

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**A/N:** Aww no poor Jack! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! It would be lovely to read some reviews from you lovely readers (I know you're all out there!) so please don't hesitate to let me know what you think, I swear I don't bite! :)

Response to review: River - Thank you for the review! Aww thanks I'm glad you liked the chapter and the J/E interaction - sorry for the lack of it in this one haha, it was intended to be a part of the last chapter! I'm so happy that Elizabeth's description struck a chord, I figured that after spending two months languishing away in Port Royal she would feel quite an awakening at being around Jack and danger again! Thank you! :)

Till next time!


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